Together
by AlwaysAndForeverAfter
Summary: Rachel is in love with Quinn Fabray. Santana knows. Santana is in love with Brittany. No one knows. Can these two girls who have never quite gotten along find a way to help each other find happiness?
1. Chapter 1

**Story is set during the first few episodes of season three, so not all facts will be up to date with what is currently going on on the show. This is a Brittana and Fabery story, with a Pezberry friendship.**

**WARNING there are rather graphic mentions of self-harm. If this is triggering, please do not read.**

**As the typical disclaimer, i do not own Glee. Ryan Murphy does. I wish i did, but i don't. **

* * *

><p>"Hey Sanny?"<p>

Santana mumbled an incoherent response as she snuggled further into the leggy blonde who was taking up most of the bed. Neither girl minded the contact and obvious invasion of personal bubbles that had been long popped.

"Can we talk?" Brittany's voice was soft and melodious, floating across the room as if it were mimicking the dance moves of the girl to whom it belonged. Santana was caught by the sound and looked up into blue eyes attentively even though every ounce of her body was telling her that she was exhausted and in need of sleep.

"Sure, Boo. 'Bout what?" Deep brown eyes locked with swirling blue as Santana idly traced mindless circles with delicate fingertips along the exposed milky skin under Brittany's breast.

"What are we?"

Santana's movements stilled at the words that echoed in her head. What _were_ they? Not even Santana knew the answer to that question. They were best friends, of course. Had been ever since first grade. They were inseparable. That was a known fact to anyone who knew of the existence of the two girls. They were each other's worlds. It was as if one could not live without the other. But what were they in regards to the question Brittany was _really_ asking? Were they more?

The intensity of Brittany's eyes looking deep within Santana's was causing the brunette's heart to race as she tried to come up with an answer to the unanswerable question.

"You know I love you," she finally stammered.

"I know," Brittany said with a faint smile. "And you know that I love you too. But like, are we dating?"

Santana felt the unfortunately familiar sting of tears behind her eyes as she fought to hold everything back. Santana wasn't good with feelings. And feelings when it came to whatever it was that was between her and Brittany were difficult to process when she was alone. Having to process those feelings with Brittany scrutinizing her every facial expression and vocalization was damn near impossible.

"I don't know, Brit-Brit. Maybe. Can we talk about it more tomorrow, or some other time? I'm really tired."

Brittany smiled weakly and placed a delicate kiss to Santana's forehead before reaching over to shut off the light on her bedside table, throwing the two into complete darkness as they fell asleep to the sound of their heart beats and collective breathing.

Rachel Berry stood at her locker as the sound of the bell rang out through the hallways and the last of the students scurried off to their respective classes before they were marked tardy. Rachel reached into her pocket and took out the yellow sticky note that she had obtained from Mr. Shue as a pass for her to skip her study hall class and spend the time in the auditorium working on a number. She was grateful for a teacher who understood her passion for the arts enough to know that in the grand scheme of things, her musical ability was far more important than her academic one.

She shut her locker and was about to go to the auditorium when she heard the familiar clicking of a pair of heeled boots and turned her attention to the sound just in time to watch Miss. Quinn Fabray walk through the doors of the very auditorium that Rachel was planning on spending the next 42 minutes in.

With a cautious glance down the hallway, Rachel quietly walked into the auditorium, grateful for the muffled sound of her shoes against the carpeted floors as she silently shut the door behind her.

Her eyes went straight to Quinn. Her head of blonde was making its way to the front of the large room towards the stage. She climbed the steps and walked to the black piano with a grace that Rachel had only ever seen Quinn possess and the blonde's skirt delicately flipped as she lowered herself onto the piano bench, setting her hands against the row of ivory and black and began to play.

Rachel found herself caught by the sound and lowered herself into the row of seats closest to the spot she stood in even though every ounce of her being was telling her that Quinn would make her life hell if she ever caught Rachel intruding.

The truth is, Rachel never knew Quinn could play. She'd never once heard anything about the blonde being able to play any instrument, really. But by the way Quinn's fingers were expertly dancing along the keys as her body unconsciously swayed to the mesmerizing rhythm, there wasn't a doubt in Rachel's mind that Quinn had been doing this for a very long time.

Rachel was startled by a sob as Quinn lifted her hands from the piano mid-note and brought them up to her face. Thinking she was alone in the vast room, Quinn didn't bother trying to hide her tears or muffle any sound as she sobbed freely into her hands.

Rachel stood up and silently walked back out the door and into the empty hallway.

Brittany looked up at the teacher standing at the front of the room going on about History, or Chemistry, or Mythology, or something like that. She couldn't seem to grasp a single word that was coming from the man's mouth, and the sketch of random shapes behind him only further added to Brittany's confusion. She looked over at her left where Santana was looking up at the teacher without interest, occasionally writing something down in the notebook in front of her.

As if she sensed eyes on her, Santana looked over at Brittany and smiled. It was then that Brit noticed that the other blonde, the third of the unholy trinity, wasn't sitting to Santana's left.

"Where's Quinn?" Brittany mouthed.

Santana rolled her eyes and shrugged. Just at that time, Quinn appeared in the doorway and walked into the classroom to take her seat.

"Do you have a late pass, Miss Fabray?" asked the teacher.

"No sir," she responded meekly. Brittany noticed that there was something with her voice that seemed scratchier than usual, and her eyes looked like they were red from crying, but hiding behind layers of expertly applied makeup.

Brittany tried getting Quinn's attention. When the other blonde finally looked over at her, Brittany frowned. "What's wrong?" she mouthed across the room. Quinn only shook her head. Brittany went back to looking out the window.

When the bell rang, all the students quickly filed out the door. Among the jumble of bodies, Santana snaked her arm through Brittany's and the two girls made it through the hallway easier than most, because people parted for them when they walked. Together, the two were on top of the world.

Santana spotted Quinn's blonde hair at her locker as the two girls approached. Santana opened her mouth to say something when she spotted Rachel down the hallway, eyes locked onto Quinn as they roamed her body and then turned back to her own locker.

_How is it that I'm the only one who ever sees these things? _Santana wondered to herself.

Quinn shut her locker and turned around and saw the two girls standing behind her. "Hey guys," she said, putting as much happy into that greeting as she could muster. "What are you guys up to?"

"This and that," Santana said with a shrug. "So what's with you, Q? And don't give me any crap about being all fine and dandy. I can see past the makeup."

"Maybe I just don't want to talk about it," Quinn mumbled, turning to walk away.

"Talking about it makes things better," Brittany called after her.

Quinn turned around in the middle of the hallway and locked eyes with Santana. "Well maybe I just don't want to talk about it with you."

She turned around and was lost in the sea of people.

Quinn went through all the classes of her day, being in the room but not really _being_ there. Her mind wandered and she couldn't seem to focus on what was being said, only snapping out of it when she heard the bell ring to signal their next class. She initially had planned on heading to her last period class, but her feet led her in the direction of the gym doors. There, she found herself reveling in the safety of the Cheerios locker room. This was the only place where she could ensure that no one else in the school would find her. Only Cheerios, and Sue, were allowed in the very well-kept locker room, but all the Cheerios were either in their respective classes or ditching school entirely, and Quinn had no reason to fear that someone was going to walk in. Even though she was no longer a Cheerio, this locker room remained her safe haven.

Rachel did something she had never done before. She skipped her last period class. Instead of going to her AP calculus class like the good student she had always prided herself on being, she snuck away into the empty choir room. It was the one place where she knew she would be forever safe. Though the large stage in the auditorium felt like a second home to her, the walls of the choir room felt like a second skin. She walked past Brad's piano and ran her gingers gently along the ivory keys. Though she didn't press hard enough to play a single note, she heard them in her head like the harmonizing voices of angles.

Finn glanced up at the clock in his History class. 12:28. It was exactly the time stated in Rachel's text that he was to go meet her. Santana turned her head and watched as the boy raised his hand and spoke without being called on, interrupting the teacher.

"I have to use the bathroom," he announced. The words were spoken quickly and got a few students to chuckle. Santana fought back a small smirk.

The teacher glared at him. "I am in the middle of an important lesson about post World War II America. Your bathroom break will have to wait until either I'm finished with this lesson or until the class is over."

Santana watched as Finn's eyes went to the clock above the door. 12:29.

"But it's an emergency," he protested, standing up.

"And I am teaching, and you are interrupting."

Santana watched once more as his impatient eyes watched the clock like the White Rabbit. She spoke up. "You know," she said, looking at the teacher as her slightly raspy voice echoed through the room. A whole classroom of eyes looked her way. "A teacher doesn't have the right to deny their student the ability to take a piss. It's like, inhumane or something. I could probably take the situation to the school board and tell them that you're preventing a student from using the restroom, and this putting him in a physically uncomfortable situation."

She couldn't help but internally smirk as she saw realization hit the teacher's features when she realized that Santana didn't have any problem getting her fired over something this petty. If there's anything even the teachers know, it's that when Santana wants something, she won't stop at making up any lies to get it.

Finn was confused. It was very unlike Santana to ever help anyone out with anything, unless you're a pretty, blue-eyed dancer. But, it was even more rare an occasion when your name was Finn.

Finn looked up at the clock once again. 12:32. He hopped Rachel wasn't going to get too terribly angry if he was a few minutes late.

The teacher sighed and reached into the top drawer of her desk, pulling out a pass. "Fine," she sighed. "You may leave."

Finn rushed to the front of the room, muttered a thank you and hurried out the door and down the hallway. He took his phone out of his pocket and sent a text to Santana.

**Thanks. But why did you do it?**

It didn't even take a full minute before his phone buzzed back with his answer. It was like Santana knew that he was going to send it. Sometimes it's scary how she seems to know things like that, and she's a pretty scary person to begin with without the ability to read minds. He opened his phone and looked at the words on the screen.

**Don't question my motives. Just get your ass to whatever closet you and Barbara are having a date in.**

Finn smiled and shook his head as he put his phone back in his jeans pocket. She really does seem to know everything.

Rachel didn't want to seem like an impatient girlfriend, so she fought back the urge to tap her foot as she watched the minutes tick past on the clock above the door of the choir room. Instead, she took out her favorite notebook (the one covered in glittery gold stars) and sat down on the piano bench and began to write.

Rachel was thankful that Quinn had sent her so far over the emotional cliff before Regionals the year before that it had pushed her to finally find that spark to write music. Before that, every attempt Rachel made at tapping into her true emotions to write her songs just seemed wrong. Either the emotional was so dull that the song had nothing to it, or the feelings were so raw that even writing them down on paper seemed taboo. But Quinn had given her that push she needed, and for that, Rachel was forever grateful.

Had it not been for Quinn, Rachel wouldn't have been sitting there on the piano bench writing her feelings onto a sheet of paper, falling victim to the music within her.

As words ran from her mind to her hand like a fluid stream of thought, Rachel pictured the scenes in her head as if she was writing a soundtrack to the Broadway musical that was her life. She found herself writing of a small crush that budded into an indescribable love.

Rachel stopped writing.

The love she was picturing her in head wasn't Finn. No, it was someone much different than the tall jock.

She tore the piece of paper from her note book, watching as the shiny gold stars that bordered the paper glittered under the florescent lighting of the room, crumbled it up. She tossed it in the trashcan beside the piano just as Finn's footsteps echoed in the hallway right outside the choir room.

"Hey Rach." She looked up at him and smiled. "Why'd you tell me to come down here?" he asked. "Something wrong?"

"My instincts tell me that yes, something is indeed wrong. But do not worry, it's not about me. I'm here to ask you about Quinn. I have reason to believe that there is something that has been troubling her lately. And, as president of this Glee Club, I think that it is in everyone's well-being if I knew if there was something wrong in the life of one of our valued members."

Finn looked at her in confusion. "You think something's up with Quinn?"

"I saw her crying earlier today," Rachel confessed. "It actually interfered with my scheduled time to practice in the auditorium, but when I saw that she was so very obviously emotionally distraught…. Do you know if there's something wrong?"

"Why would I know? I haven't really talked to her all that much since after New York. She's not entirely crazy about the thought of the two of us together."

"I am aware that she doesn't fully approve of our relationship, but I figured that the two of you are probably closer than she and I are, and that it most likely isn't my position to ask her myself."

Finn made his way back to the door. "Look Rach. I really don't know. But if you think there's something going on with her, just ask her. I really should get back to class."

Before Rachel could say anything else in protest, Finn disappears through the doorway and the sound of his heavy footsteps died out to a soft, almost inaudible thud as he walked down the hallway back to history.

Quinn took off her shirt and looked in the full-length mirror taking up half of the wall near the showers. Her hands instantly moved to the tender skin along her hips and waist, tracing the lines that marred her otherwise perfectly milky skin. Her fingertips flittered over sensitive new cuts, still red and fresh, and danced over scars that were long healed and familiar.

She felt a new wave of tears stinging at her eyes and reached for her bag, finding the small, almost unnoticeable pocket in the lining. There, in a small envelope, she kept a paperclip and a razor. Digging further through the pocket, she found her pink lighter.

Quinn felt like she was drowning in a pool of emotions that she didn't understand, and she was numbed by the feeling of helplessness. She was slowly losing control of her own life and felt like she was nothing more than a pawn in the Devil's game of chess. She needed to make herself feel alive again. Something that would make her feel like her body is still her own, and that she was still breathing; feeling. She lit the lighter and stuck the already charred side of the paperclip into the flame, watching as the silver metal glowed a warm orange in the heat.

She felt like her very being was going against everything that she had ever believed in; everything she was ever taught to believe. If her parents kicked her out about her getting pregnant, Quinn couldn't imagine her mother's reaction if she ever met the Quinn that was hiding behind a carefully constructed mask.

Quinn took the paperclip out from the flame and pressed it tightly against her left hip. She closed her eyes and threw her head back with a hiss as the skin beneath the paperclip became painful, but she didn't move it away. She only pressed harder as she curled her toes in pain. She didn't move away the source of pain until the heat had faded away and all she could feel was a pulsating heartbeat in the inflicted portion of skin.

Quinn locked at the burn in the mirror. Already, a painful burn blister formed. She took the razorblade and ran it along the length of the blister, opening it up. She watched as blood began to form in the wound, gathering at the sides until it fell down like a red teardrop. She quickly wiped at it so that it didn't get on her clothing.

She reached for her bag and took out a bandage and wrapped her fresh wound before putting the shirt back on. With one last look in the mirror, she fixed her hair and makeup and gave herself the fakest of smiles.

The sound of the bell that marked the end of the school day echoed through the locker room, causing Quinn to jump. With a deep breath, she opened the door again and stepped into the sea of bodies, feeling as if she'd never be able to stop herself from drowning.

Santana and Brittany stood at their lockers, getting their books. Brittany was grateful that Santana had sweetly convinced the small Asian boy who had the locker next to hers to switch with Brittany so that the two girls were side by side. Brit fiddled with the pictures hanging up in her locker as Santana put heavy AP text books into her bag. No one knew that Sanny was actually really smart, because Santana claimed that smart people aren't popular people. To live in Santana's world, you couldn't be both, and Santana was willing to put anything aside to make room for her popularity.

Just like every day, once Santana had finished packing all of her own homework, she turned to Brittany's locker to make sure that the blonde had all of her necessary books. It wasn't like Brit was really going to do much of the homework by herself anyway; Santana spend hours each night with her, making sure that she got passing grades in all her classes. Had it not been for Santana taking the time out of her life to always be there for Brittany, there's a chance that her favorite blue-eyed dancer would have been held back years ago, and the two wouldn't be able to go to school together. With Santana's help, the school viewed Brittany as being dim-witted, but functioning.

Santana packed all of Brit's books into her bag and looked up to say something to her, but was distracted by something she saw on the other side of the hallway where Quinn's locker was. Since she was no longer a cheerleader, Quinn didn't stand out in the halls by wearing the signature red and white uniform that marked a Cheerio, but she stood out in a way that was entirely Quinn.

Apparently, Santana wasn't the only one who noticed. Her deep brown eyes scanned the hallway until they landed on one Rachel Berry, who stood at her own locker just a little further down. Though her hands were taking books out of her licker and putting them in her backpack, her eyes were fixated on Quinn. Santana could just barely see as Rachel's eyes scanned up and down Quinn's body. Just then, Rachel dropped one of her books.

Santana fought back a chuckle as she watched the short brunette quickly look around the hallway in embarrassment and bend down to get the book. When she looked up and back over in Quinn's direction, the graceful blonde was no longer there. Santana watched as disappointment obviously showed itself in Rachel's expression.

"Whatcha looking' at Sanny?" Brittany asked, turning to look in the direction where Santana's eyes were. She turned to look at Brit and their eyes locked. Brittany noticed a familiar sparkle in Santana's eyes and wondered what the brunette had been thinking about.

"Hey Brit-Brit, you ever think that Man-Hand could be a…. a unicorn?"

Brittany cocked her head to the ride and furrowed her eyebrows at the thought, but a small smile played at the corners of her lips when Santana used the word that the two of them understood the meaning of.

"I don't know," she admitted. "A bi-corn, maybe. Why? You interested?" Santana faked shock and playfully smacked her as Brittany wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"Don't even joke about such things," Santana warned. "And I don't know why I'm thinking it. I've just had a… a hunch, lately."

"Like unicorn radar?"

Santana threw her head back and laughed out loud. Several heads turned and looked as her infectious and very uncharacteristic laugh caught the attention of most everyone in the hallway. Santana shut Brittany's locker and linked their pinkies together. "Yes Brit," she answered. "_Exactly_ like unicorn radar."

* * *

><p><strong>ahh! chapter 1 is done! please tell me what you think :) This is my first FanFiction, so i'm really excited about it and hope you guys all like it. Review please :) <strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**I know it took so long for me to post this second chapter, but i just got so caught up in my school work that i hadn't really had the chance to do that much writing. But i was shocked at how many people have read the first chapter and added it to their favorites or their alerts, and was sure to try and get this chapter up as quickly as i could.**

**sorry it is considerably shorter than the first chapter, but school just really got in the way of my schedual and really shuffled everything up. But i absolutly promise that the next chapter is going to be longer, and much more exciting. This chapter and the one before were really just about setting everything up, so things will be heating up. I'm excited :)**

"We did great in Nationals last year," Mr. Shue said, addressing the group of teens sitting before him. "But this year, we're going to do better. We're going to win. For a lot of you, this is your year. This is your time to shine, and so we need to make this time count."

Everyone stared at him as if they were taking in his words. He was right. Out of the twelve kids sitting in front of him, nine of them were seniors. For nine of them, this was it. This year was all or nothing. Either they would go home with that first place trophy or not. There were no second chances anymore.

He clapped his hands together and began taking his things. "You guys did a great job today. I'll see you all tomorrow. Stay safe. Stay out of trouble."

All of the kids started to gather their own things and make their way out the door. Brittany stood up and began to walk towards the door, but Santana hurried up behind her and took her by the arm, slowing her down, until the two of them were the only ones left in the room.

Santana moved towards the door and locked it. "Sanny," Brittany asked, "What are you doing?"

Santana turned back towards the blonde and smiled. "Shh…" she said. She pushed the taller girl so that her back was against the piano in the center of the room and instantly leaned in to hungrily kiss the taller girl. Brittany's back dug painfully into the piano, but didn't care as she tightly wrapped her fingers in Santana's hair with one hand, bringing her face even closer to hers, and used the other hand to expertly remove the brunette's shirt.

Their lips parted as Santana's shirt was pulled over her head and tossed carelessly to the floor beside them, and then she began placing a trail of hungry kisses along Brit's neck, gently biting down on her pulse point.

"What if we get caught?" Brittany asked between moans.

Santana smirked devilishly against the pale skin under her mouth and licked her way up to Brit's jaw. "It's a risk I'm willing to take."

Brittany smiled. Quickly, she turned both herself and Santana around, and effortlessly lifted the brunette off the ground and placed her on the top of the piano.

Twenty minutes later, the two lay atop the piano, wrapped in each other's arms, panting. "We should buy a piano," Brittany suggested. Santana chuckled and rolled her eyes. Brittany scooted herself off the piano and went in search of her clothing. Santana's was all generally around the piano, but Brittany's seemed to have been tossed around the room.

Santana watched, amused as she put on her own clothing and Brittany danced around the room as she redressed. After five minutes or so, Brittany was completely in her clothing, with one small exception.

"Sanny," she whined, eyes wide with fear. "You know Coach is going to kill me if I'm out of uniform."

"I know Brit," Santana said, checking under the piano. "But your sock has to be somewhere. Socks don't just disappear."

"Yes they do!" Brittany argued. "Whenever I put socks in the dryer, there's always one missing. They have to be disappearing, because if they're not, then that means that there's some monster living in my dryer, and we both know that's silly. Monsters only live under beds and in closets."

Santana was glad that her back was turned to the blonde so that she wouldn't see the smirk. "Are you sure you checked everywhere. Look around the piano. It has to be in this room."

Brittany looked around the piano and noticed it wedged between the garbage can beside the piano and the leg of the piano bench. She happily bent down to pick it up, but was distracted by something shiny and gold in the garbage can.

Santana had always told her not to just go picking through the garbage, because regardless of how cool something in there looked, it was probably dirty. But this garbage can was completely empty with the exception of this single, crumbled up piece of paper with gold accents. She reached in and pulled it out, looking at the shiny gold stars bordering the words.

Brittany began to read aloud. "_Whenever I see your face, I find myself captivated. Whenever I see your ocean blue eyes, I find myself drowning. Whenever I hear your angel song, I can't seem to breathe. But all of that is fine with me if I can be with you_."

Santana looked up from where she was standing, caught by the blonde's words. The rational part of Santana knew that there was no way that Brittany was saying those things to her, but that doesn't mean that there wasn't some highly irrational part of her that was still hoping she was. Her suspicions were proved correct when she looked over at the dancer and saw the piece of paper in her hands.

"What's that?" she asked, making her way over to Brittany.

Unlike the dancer, Santana knew exactly who the paper belonged to the moment that she saw the gold stars.

Berry.

She thought back to the lyrics. _Whenever I see your ocean blue eyes, I find myself drowning_.

Finn has brown eyes.

But Quinn's eyes are this blue and sea foam green color that rivals the ocean.

"Let me see that," Santana said eagerly, taking the paper from Brittany's hand. She began reading.

_The love that bloomed like a rose never was so strong._

_It started as a girl who couldn't seem to tear her eyes away_

_And turned into a fear that looking away would hurt._

_More star-crossed than Romeo and Juliette,_

_The love should never have been._

_And yet never once could I seem to stop you from running through my mind._

_The love is forbidden._

_The love is unrequited._

_And yet I find myself in love with_

The words stopped abruptly. Santana thought. "Brit," she said slowly, "this is Rachel's."

Brittany smiled and clasped her hands together. "Aww! Finn is going to love this song. It's so cute of her to write him a love song like this."

Santana shook her head. "I don't think this is about Finn."

"Then who do you think this is-"Brittany stopped short. "Does this have anything to do with you asking me if she was a unicorn?"

Santana nodded. "Yeah. Brittany, I think this is about Quinn."

"Quinn? Why do you think that? Rachel and Quinn don't really get along all that good."

"I know. But that doesn't mean that Berry can't have the hots for Q. I mean, I practically saw the midget undressing her with her eyes."

"That doesn't necessarily mean anything," Brittany said. "Quinn is hot. Everyone thinks so. Don't act all innocent. You look at her, too."

Santana was glad that ethic people don't exactly blush, because she felt the unwelcomed heat rise to her face. "That's not everything," she said. "The song. The person has _blue_ eyes, like Quinn. Finn's eyes are brown."

"It could just be to make the song sound nice. The ocean is pretty."

"And the end!" Santana continued enthusiastically. "At the end, Quinn rhymes!"

Brittany paused for a second. "So does Finn."

Santana sighed. "Britt, I just know it. I have this feeling in my gut that I'm right about this."

Brittany smiled. "Why do I feel like you're going to somehow get caught up in this?"

Santana smirked. "Because you know me," she said with a shrug. "And you know that I'm the type of person who will flat out walk up to Berry and ask if she's a unicorn."

Quinn sat herself up in the bleachers and watched as the Cheerios practiced. Sometimes, there were moments where she wishes she were out there. There are times when she feels like maybe her life would be going in a better direction if she could make herself blend into the group of red and white clad girls with the unbelievably short skirts and the tight ponytails. Sometimes she thinks that if she never left Sue and her band of world champion cheerleaders, maybe Quinn wouldn't be so much of a screw up.

She watched as Brittany and Santana ran out onto the field long after all the other girls had already been hallway through their first run of the routine. It was just like them. And yet, they never got in any trouble from Sue. Quinn used to be captain; she knows the drill. She knows that had this been any other girl on the squad, Sue would have her running wind-sprints for being even twenty-five seconds late. Here are two girls coming in ten whole minutes late. But it was a warped system, because these weren't just any two girls. This was Santana and Brittany. This was the dancer who alone could easily bring in every trophy Sue has ever sought after, and the fearless leader whose domineering presence, sexy attitude and dagger words could whip any girl into shape long after Sue herself failed. Sue knew that without these two girls, she'd have just any other squad.

Quinn used to be a part of that equation. She used to be right up there with Brittany and Santana in the socio-political food chain that was the squad. When it came to the pyramids, the three of them found a way to share the top. The leader, the mean one, and the sweetheart. If you turned them into a cartoon it' be like watching the Powerpuff girls. But these Powerpuff girls grew apart in certain ways. Bubbles and Buttercup could last strong without their red-headed companion, but Blossom finds herself in a desperate hole without her two best friends.

Quinn was startled by footsteps walking up the bleachers. She turned to find Kurt making his way towards her.

"If you miss the Cheerios so badly that you watch all their practices, you should just go back and join them," Kurt said, sitting down next to her. "You know Sue would take you back in a heartbeat."

Quinn sighed and locked eyes with Kurt. "There are times that I want to be there so badly. Times when I want to feel like I'm part of something. Somewhere where I belong."

"You're a part of Glee Club," Kurt countered. "And you belong _there_."

Quinn shook her head and looked back at the girls on the field. "That's entirely different. As much as I love every single person in that room, Glee club is filled with freaks and misfits and everyone who in some way or another, doesn't have another category to fall into."

"But Santana and Brittany are-"

"exceptions," Quinn said, cutting him off mid sentence. "Yes, they're Cheerios, and popular, and everything that any girl at this school has ever strived to be, but they're misfits in their own ways. Just think about it. Brittany is a dancer and a cheerleader, but we both know that she's not going to amount to anything else beyond that. And Santana…. Santana has her own plethora of issues."

Kurt looked startled. He whispered, "don't you think that's a bit harsh to say about your best friends?"

Quinn couldn't find it within her to look him in the eye. It was harsh. She basically just called Brittany stupid and useless, and Santana a complete screw up. Without glancing up from where she was gazing across the field as the two girls in question performed miraculous back flips while the squad behind them danced rhythmically, Quinn said, "It's the truth."

Kurt couldn't just sit there and listen to Quinn talk like that. He placed his hand on her thigh, causing her eyes to jump up and meet his comforting gaze. "Quinn," he started. "I know that you're going through something right now. I don't know what it is, but I feel it. And I know that you're taking things out on people, even your best friends and the glee club, but I'm worried about you. After taking things out on other people, the next progression is taking things out on yourself, and I don't want it to get to that point. I want you to know that if there's anything you ever need to talk about, whenever you want to talk about it, I'm here for you. You know where I live, you have my phone number, and you know that I care."

With another pat on the knee, Kurt stood up and walked down the bleachers. He never looked back. He never noticed that Quinn shed silent tears because maybe it was a little too late for that.

Rachel stood in the auditorium trying to get all of her papers together. Though she tried to get the words out of her head, songs just kept coming to her. Her very being was flooded with lyrics that seemed to write themselves, and she was only the connection between her innermost thoughts and the sheet music that she surrounded herself with as she scribbled the words onto the paper.

"Writing about a certain person?" a voice asked. Rachel jumped and turned, surprised to see Santana stepping onto the stage. Rachel had been so startled that she dropped the papers that she had been holding, and they all flew around the stage, exposing their truth.

Rachel bent down and began quickly picking them up as the clicking of Santana's heels neared. "I am writing, yes, but the content of my writings need not concern you," she said, making sure not to make eye contact with the domineering presence that was Miss Santana Lopez.

"Oh?" Santana asked with a raised eyebrow. She quickly swooped down and picked up the last sheet that Rachel hadn't been quick enough to pick up and began to read.

"_Forever in my heart, because I can't get you off my mind._

_I know I shouldn't want you, but you're just one of a kind._

_I know we are meant to be even though we shouldn't be_

_And yet your liquid gold hair is all I ever want to see_

_Sprawled upon my pillow._

_To see your green eyes shine,_

_And your pink lips pout_

_And to put my hands on your gentle curves_

_Would make my life worth living just as you do."_

Santana looked up and smiled at Rachel. "I'm guessing this isn't about Finn?" Rachel looked down at her feet as tears filled her eyes. Santana saw this, and even though there was a sadistic part of her who may have loved the fact that Rachel was so distraught by the idea of Santana knowing that it reduced her to tears, Santana felt bad for her. If there was any emotion that Santana fully understood, it was the fear of someone knowing that you were in love with a girl.

"Hey," Santana said, trying to sound comforting. "Stop the tears. I'm not gonna ruin you or tell people or any of that shit. I'm here to help."

"Help?" Rachel sniffled. "Why would you help me? You hate me."

"Very true," Santana said, nodding. "But you need my help, and I can use yours. Let Aunty Tana do her magic, and maybe I'll be able to get Quinn hooked on your arm in no time."

Rachel eyed the brunette. "Okayy…" she drawled out. "Though that does seem tempting, why would you ever want to help me? What's in it for you?"

"Maybe together, we can both get what we want."

"And what is it that you want?"

"My girl."

Rachel's eyes opened wider and she found herself smiling. "So my Gaydar is spot-on, I see. You and Brittany-"

"Are complicated right now."

"But you love her," Rachel said slowly.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Yes, Man-Hands, I'm head over heels in love with her. But I… I can't get myself to be open about it, and I'm losing her."

"What do you want me to do about that?"

Santana sighed. "I don't know yet. I don't know how you're going to help me, but you're going to help me. And I'm gonna help you get your girl. You in or not? Because, if you hesitate, my offer will expire."

"Fine," Rachel said with a nod. "I'm in. Maybe together, we'll both get our girls."

"You speak the truth, short one." For one short moment, Santana weighed the thought in her head before she gently placed a feather light hand on Rachel's waist as she said, "Walk with me."

**Reviews would make me smile :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Oooh! not even i was expecting to have this chapter all finished today. But i got super bored at work and figured, why not. So i kinda just went on the computer and wrote this. Don't tell my boss :)**

**So, this has quite a few mentions of Quinn's self-injury, but nothing graphic like the first chapter. Just saying that if anything like this could possibly be triggering, please don't read.**

Quinn was going to be home alone all day. Ever since her father left, things in the Fabray household have been pretty quiet. Her mother spent a lot of time out of the house doing God knows what, leaving Quinn to herself. Not that she really minded. Quinn loved it when she was home alone. The house was quiet except for the sounds of her own movements. She could turn the TV on as loud as she wanted to, she could spend hours in the kitchen experimenting with different recipes, she could sing whenever she wanted to. She didn't have to hide the scars.

When Quinn was home alone, she never had to worry about a tanktop riding up or the waist band of the sweatpants that she only ever wears around the house falling just a little bit too low. She never had to worry about anyone seeing that exposed portion of inflicted skin that would cause people to ask questions that Quinn wasn't ready to answer.

That's why Quinn panicked a little bit when the doorbell rang. Instantly, she grabbed onto whatever it was that she could find, and wrapped herself up in the old throw blanket that her nana had knitted a good 13 years ago. It was pink with these intricate roses woven into it that took her about a year to finish. Quinn never really was a fan of the blanket, seeing as it never really matched any of the furniture in the house, but ever since nana died, Quinn's mother has had it draped across the back of the couch even though she hates it as much as Quinn does.

Quinn quickly made her way over to the door, heart still beating in her chest. She felt her entire body relax when she recognized a head of blonde through the stained-glass panel of the white, wooden door. Quinn wrapped the blanket around herself a little bit tighter and opened the door.

"Brittany," she smiled. "What's up?"

Brittany smiled at the other blonde. There was something about Brittany's smile that was completely contagious. She was the type of girl who could literally make anyone's day brighter by just having a simple conversation with them about anything. In short, Brittany was rainbows. It was damn near impossible to look at her and not instantly fill with joy. That's why even though there was a part of Quinn that was still panicking over the fact that her scars were fully exposed because of the dangerously short midriff she was wearing underneath the old blanket, she still found herself relaxed enough in the smiley blonde's presence to invite her in.

Shutting the door behind her, Brittany said, "Can we talk, Q?"

Quinn sat down on the couch, pulling her legs in under her and covering her midsection in the blanket. She patted the couch beside her and Brittany took a seat. "Sure, Britt," Quinn replied. "What about?"

Brittany squirmed a little and shifted her gaze down at her hands which she had folded in her lap. "Is something wrong?" she asked quickly. "You've been acting… different, ever since school ended last year. And Sanny and I barely saw you over this past summer. And when Sanny and I went back to the Cheerios, you said you didn't want to. And that doesn't make sense, Q. You _love_ being a Cheerio. You love the red uniforms and tight ponytails and being a part of the squad. You love competing and winning. Which is why you used to even love the Glee club, even back when Glee wasn't cool. But even now, when you sing, your eyes don't sparkle. It's like something is bothering you, but you're not telling me. And I thought we were best friends, Q. You, me and Sanny. We're the three musketeers. We used to tell each other everything, and now I feel like you're never there."

Quinn swallowed audibly. This was the part of Brittany that always confused her. How the hell can a girl who can't even seem to find America on a map, or add simple numbers, or barely even read, look at a person and basically see into their soul?

Brittany has never been good at reading words, but she's a master and reading people. She uses it to her advantage. She sees someone upset, and she goes and gives them a hug. She sees that Quinn in a good mood, and she'll come over and bathe the happiness. She sees that Santana is angry, and she does that thing that only Brittany can ever do and make Santana calm down.

And now she was reading Quinn.

"I don't know," Quinn sighed, running her hand through her blonde hair and hastily putting it back into a lose bun with the bright pink scrunchy that she kept on her wrist. She smirked inside when she thought of how appalled Coach Sylvester would be if she ever saw this "sad excuse for a perfectly tight pony". "Things have just been difficult for me lately, Brittany."

Brittany's eyes flashed up towards Quinn's. "You wanna talk about it?" she asked slowly. "I'm a pretty good listener."

Quinn felt a pressure in her chest. "Britt, this isn't something that I really want people to know. It's personal."

"I won't tell anyone," Brittany answered. The excitement in her voice was obviously growing, even though she tried to keep her cool.

"I mean even San, Britt. You can't even tell Santana."

Brittany's expression fell and her voice went back to a whisper again. "But I tell Santana everything. Three musketeers, remember?"

"I know Britt. And I feel terrible for sitting here and telling you to keep a secret from her."

Quinn could almost see the gears working inside Brittany's head as she tried to figure out what to do next. She was understandably torn. She had two options. One: she could let Quinn confide in her, though she would end up keeping something from the person she loved more than anyone else in this world. But if she let loyalty get the better of her, she'd be hurting Quinn. Either she'd betray Quinn's trust and tell Sanny whatever secret it was that Quinn wanted her to keep, or she'd have to tell Quinn that her honesty with Santana means that Quinn can't tell her. And if Quinn doesn't tell her, then Quinn might never feel better.

"Okay," Brittany said, tight lipped, holding her right pinkie out to Quinn. "I promise I won't tell Santana."

Quinn's eyebrows raised and she felt the familiar tugging of a smirk at the corners of her lips, but she refrained and instead locked pinkies with Brittany. Quinn began to think about just how much this must mean to Brittany.

Quinn never quite understood what exactly was going on in the other blonde's head; that was Santana's specialty. But Quinn knows that there has always been something with Brittany and pinkies. Brittany always makes sure to make pinkie promises. She says that "pinkie promises are legit" and that she is not to be held responsible if she ever breaks a promise that was not sworn on with pinkies. But the moment the littlest finger is involved, it's the equivalent of having the girl swear on a Bible. On top of that, there is Brittany and Santana. The two of them undoubtedly have a special connection that Quinn also doesn't understand but the two of them have always expressed this deep connection by walking pinkie-in-pinkie down the hallway. In some way, it means something to Brittany, and so Quinn knew that she could trust her indefinitely.

Quinn lowered her gaze and began fiddling with a loose piece of string from the blanket as she began to speak. "Britt, have you ever felt like you're doing something wrong?

Brittany furrowed her eyebrows. "Wrong like me feeding Lord Tubbington chocolate while he's supposed to be on his diet, or wrong like messing up a Cheerios routine when I know I've got it memorized?"

Quinn thought. "More like the second one. It's like, I know that something is wrong, but I can't help but do it. Even though I try and I try to make myself see the light, I'm always drawn to the darkness."

"Well, who decided what was light and what was dark? Who told you that what you're doing is wrong?"

"My religion. Everything that I have ever held dear to me."

Brittany paused. Even she knew how sensitive religion was of a topic to Quinn. Slowly, she replied, "Have you ever thought that maybe your religion is wrong, not you?"

Quinn looked up and locked eyes with the worried blonde who was sitting on the other side of the couch. "Religion is never wrong."

"Maybe something that tells you to go against what you want to do really is wrong. Isn't the most important thing to do what you think is right? That's what Sanny always tell me. She says that all of those people who tell me that I'm stupid or that I'm a failure at life are wrong. Just because they say so doesn't mean anything." She reached over and gently touched Quinn's ear. "It's not about what you hear here," she said. "It's about what you feel right here." She moved her hand and placed it right over where Quinn's heart was about to beat out of its chest.

"But if I… if I keep doing this thing, people might hate me."

"I'd never hate you."

"But my mother would probably disown me. People at school would talk behind my back. I'd never be allowed to step foot in a church again. Don't you see, Brittany? Following my heart will only lead to bad things."

Brittany sighed. "Gosh, Quinn. What type of trouble are you in? Do you owe money to some bad people like Sanny does?"

"What?" Quinn asked. She decided it be better to leave that little tidbit of information alone. "No, Britt. It's nothing like that. No Mafia, no gangs, no drugs, nothing. It's just be going against everything I was ever taught to believe."

Brittany thought harder; something that never really came that easily to her. "Is this about a boy?" she finally asked.

Quinn's stomach felt like it exploded and a million little butterflies were let loose to fly within her. "Something like that," she admitted.

"Santana," Rachel argued, "this is never going to work."

"Relax yourself, Midget. I know what I'm doing."

"You plan to attempt to convince Quinn to stray away from religion and risk her faith and giving me a chance by throwing a party? I hardly see how this can be productive."

"Fuck, Rach. This isn't a spelling bee. Chill with the words and the grammar and try talking like a normal person with average length legs. I can go all Webster Dictionary on your ass, too, but you don't see me vying for a trophy of 'who can shove the most SAT words into a single conversation'."

"That's hardly the point of my speaking this way."

Santana held up a hand as she continued to scroll through her contact list while she decided who exactly she was going to invite. "I couldn't possibly care any less about what the point is. And before you get your abnormally large granny panties in a twist up your vagina, this _will_ work."

Rachel scrunched up her nose in disgust. "Why do you need to be so vulgar?"

Santana didn't even look up from the small screen of her phone. She was lying on her stomach on her bed, ignoring Rachel as she paced back and forth along Santana's carpet. As far as Santana was concerned, Berry should have been lucky that she was even allowed to get this far into Santana's room. Vying for a decent conversation is really pushing her luck. "Why do you need to be so fucking short?" she quipped.

"I can't help it!" Rachel protested, throwing her arms into the air in exasperation.

"Same," Santana sighed, still not meeting Rachel's eyes.

With a huff, Rachel sat herself down in the chair opposite Santana's bed, instantly being engulfed in the soft black velvet. "Fine," she said. "Then I am just going to sit here and not talk."

"Well that's a damn shame," Santana said, sarcasm dripping off her dagger tongue. "I'm going to dearly miss hearing your shrill little cartoon voice throwing proper grammar and vocabulary at me like a monkey flings shit at the people it hates."

"For the record, I don't hate you," Rachel said. "I do think you're a bitch sometimes, but I don't hate you."

"You should," Santana said honestly. "I've been told that hating me makes putting up with me easier."

Rachel frowned. To some, Santana's tone may have sounded indifferent. It may have even sounded as if she _wanted_ for people to hate her for some reason. But, even though Santana and Rachel couldn't even be really considered anything close to being friends, Rachel has seen enough of Santana over the years to see the pain behind her words. "Why would that make putting up with you easier?"

"Because if someone already hates me, they don't ever need to forgive me for the shit I say. They never need to act like I don't offend them. They never need to pretend that the shit I do is okay."

"What about Brittany?"

For the first time since the two of them stepped foot into Santana's bedroom, the dark brunette actually looked up at the smaller girl. "What about her?" Santana asked.

"She obviously does not hate you. From what I can tell, it's quite the opposite. She's enamored by one Miss Santana Lopez."

Santana shook her head. "She's an exception to the rule."

"Why is that?"

Santana sighed. "Look, I'm not going to call Brittany stupid, because I don't think she is. In my eyes, she's a genius, and it's the rest of the world's fault if they're not going to give her way a fucking chance. Just because some things don't make sense to certain people doesn't mean that they don't make sense. But I will say that Brit sees the world differently. Not like you and I do. Don't get me wrong, I have tried and tried countless times to be able to see like through her. I've wanted to be able to witness life the way she does, because I imagine everything is way happier if you look through her eyes."

"What does this have to do with her being able to tolerate you?"

"Because even when the world is full of flaming shit that makes people miserable and want to rip their eyes out with forks, Brittany manages to find that one little flicker of good in everything. She sees the good in people. And even if there's no good there, she _creates_ good in people, and then manipulates it in her hand to make it even better. That's what she does to me. She doesn't need to 'tolerate' me, because when I'm with her, I'm a different person."

Rachel found herself smiling. "Wow, Santana," she said. "I have never heard you sound so human before."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Okay, mushy stuff over. Get your ass over here so I can explain to you how this is going to work."

Rachel got up out of the chair and walked over to Santana's bed. The bed was huge, probably queen sized, and Santana's small body only took up a fraction of the space. Yet, Rachel wasn't sure if the invitation to 'get her ass over there' extended to actually sitting down on the bed of Santana Lopez. For a moment, she contemplated in her head what she should do.

Santana noticed this. On one hand, she was thoroughly amused at the fact that Rachel Berry was so afraid of Santana that she wasn't even going to take the chance of nearing the girl with the infamous temper. And yet, Santana couldn't help but feel this twinge of hurt in a place deep within her. She knew that only the strong will make it to the top, but has she done so much that people genuinely fear her?

"You can sit on the bed," Santana said finally. "I don't bite. Unless you're into that sorta stuff."

Rachel sat down on the bed and felt her face flush. "I am into no such thing," she stammered.

"You sure?" Santana asked with a raised eyebrow. "You can't just rule it out because it sounds unappealing. It's one of those things that you need to try it before you decide if it's for you or not, I mean, Quinn –"

"Can we please not," Rachel interrupted. Santana smirked. "Just, tell me whatever it is you were going to tell me."

"Fine," Santana began. "Don't listen to my story about Quinn. But anyway, the party. Sent out texts to 60 people that there's going to be a party at Puckerman's tomorrow night."

"And Noah is okay with you inviting people to his party?"

Santana laughed. "Puckerman didn't even know he was throwing a party until I sent him a text telling him that he was. But that's not my point. My point is that as Godly and Saintly as Quinn Fabray may paint herself to be, I know that she's a party girl at heart, and there is no way she'd be willing to miss out on a huge bash. And so, we get her piss drunk and get her talking."

"But drunk Quinn won't be the same as sober Quinn," Rachel insisted. "Remember my party last year? Quinn gets really angry and starts yelling."

"Yeah," Santana agreed, "but she's talking about all the things that were on her mind when she was sober. Haven't you ever heard the saying that 'drunken words are sober thoughts'? That's not just a saying. It's legit."

"And so what is your plan once you get her talking?"

"Make her say all the right things."

Rachel wasn't sure if she liked the slightly wicked grin that played itself out on Santana's full lips.

Quinn sniffled once more and pulled away from the warm comfort that was Brittany's shoulder. What started as an innocent conversation between friends had ended with Quinn in tears, wrapped up in one of her best friend's comforting embraces. The two of them sat on Quinn's couch for what must have been two hours. Brittany had even managed to snuggle her way under Quinn's blanket, so Quinn no longer had that barrier between Brittany and one of her biggest secrets. But then again, Brittany always did have a way of bringing down people's walls.

"Thanks, Brit," Quinn said, wiping away the last of her tears. She had pulled away from Brittany's shoulder, but not away from her touch. She was still spooned into the taller girl's frame, who had lay a gentle hand on Quinn's side, letting feather-light fingertips draw aimless, soothing patterns.

"You don't need to thank me," Brittany said honestly. "Crying is good. You probably just needed to cry about whatever it is that was bothering you so much. The darkness."

Quinn sighed. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you more, Britt."

Brittany smiled and placed a kiss on Quinn's forehead. "Don't worry about it. When you're ready, you'll tell me. Pinkie promises don't expire. I told you that if you tell me your secret, I won't tell Sanny. Whenever it is that you decide to tell me, your secret will be safe with me."

Quinn smiled and laced her fingers with Brittany's. "Where is Santana, anyway?"

"With Rachel," Brittany said. "They're hanging out at San's house."

Quinn's eyes opened wide. "What?" she asked. "But why? Santana hates Rachel."

Brittany shook her head. "Santana told me that I'm not allowed to tell you what they're talking about. See?" she asked, poking Quinn in the stomach. "I can keep secrets."

Quinn shook her head and chuckled. Her cell phone vibrated against the glass of the coffee table in front of the two girls. Less than a second later, Quinn felt the buzzing of Brittany's cell phone in her boot. Brittany always keeps her phone in her boot, claiming that it is one of the few places where Brittany won't lose it. The problem comes in the summer when she's wearing flip-flops and begins to lose her phone on a regular basis. Luckily, she's almost always with Santana, so contacting Brittany when you need to is never too much of a challenge.

"This is so Pretty Little Liars," Brittany whispered, reaching for her phone. Quinn opened hers and read the text message. It was from Santana.

_Party time. Puck's place. Tomorrow night. Usual time. Booze included. $25 fee. Be there_.

"OOhh!" Brittany shrieked excitedly, done with reading her own text message. "A party! I love parties."

"Why is San throwing a party at Puck's house?" Quinn wondered.

Brittany shrugged. "Does it matter? It's a party. It's going to be fun. Come on. Let's go upstairs and decide what you're going to wear."

Before Quinn even had the chance to object, she had Quinn by the hand and was leading her up the stairs to Quinn's bedroom. It wasn't until they were more than halfway down the hall to the room that Quinn realized she was no longer in the safety of her blanket and that at least three inches of inflicted skin were visible on both sides of her hips.

She had to think quickly. She pulled her hand out of Brittany's grasp and began running down the hall to her room. "Race you," she called over her shoulder. She heard Brittany's footsteps pick up speed and her infectious giggle, but Quinn was faster. She ran into the bedroom and basically threw herself onto her bed, enveloping herself in her warm, baby blue comforter.

Moments later, Brittany raced through the door smiling, jumping onto Quinn's bed. "You beat me," she sang. "I'm gonna pick stuff out for you."

Brittany loved clothes, but she and Quinn had drastically different personal styles. Quinn was very proper and put together, while Brittany loved experimenting with different colors and prints. Quinn had enough spring dresses and cardigans to last her a life time, but not nearly enough t-shirts in Brittany's opinion. But still, she managed to find something for Quinn to wear that was up to her standards. She tossed a pale pink, knee-length skirt onto the bed along with a black and teal floral cardigan, and a simple yellow tank top to wear under it.

"Isn't this a lot of different colors, B?" Quinn asked, picking up all of the clothing. "I don't know if this is going to look good."

"Try it on," Brittany insisted. Quinn picked up the clothing and held it up against her body as she made her way towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Brittany called out.

Quinn popped her head back in the bedroom. "To go try this on."

"Why are you going to the bathroom to try it on? We always just get changed in front of each other."

"Yeah," Quinn said. "But I need to pee. Figured I might as well multitask."

For one short moment, Quinn thought that Brittany was going to say something to object. She had that thing in her features that made Quinn's heart beat race and her breathing hitch in her throat because Brittany looked suspicious. But then Brittany's expression softened and she said, "Okay. I get it. Crying always makes me want to pee. It's like the fairies inside me think that if we're getting rid of waters through my eyeballs, we might as well get rid of some more water through my vagina."

Quinn furrowed her eyebrows and opened her mouth to say something, but then thought against it. This was going to be her chance to get away without Brittany asking any more questions, so she wasn't going to push her luck and risk Brittany holding her up longer.

Brittany was right. Quinn tried on the outfit and it looked amazing. It was nothing that Quinn was ever going to be able to say that she would have put together for herself, but it had Brittany written all over it.

When she walked back into the room, Brittany took one look at her before breaking out into a huge smile and saying, "Party time. All them boys be gonna be wanting their hands all over that sexiness right there."

Quinn shook her head and smiled, looking into the mirror. Maybe drunkenly hooking up with a guy at a party is exactly what she needed.

**Ahh! even i'm excited about the party. wonder what's gonna haaapppeeennn...**

**Reviews make me smile :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Again with me being to terrible with the timing. Sorry! This chapter was really interesting for me to type, though. There were so many different directions that i could have taken all of this in, so there was a lot of writing something and deciding if i liked the way it played out, and then rewriting it until the story felt perfect to me.**

**This is going to be a pretty long chapter. At least in comparison to all my other ones. I wanted to entire party in this one little chunk of words, so the chunk ended up being not so little. the aftermath will be in the next one. **

Brittany and Santana were, for once, early to a party. Puckerman didn't exactly know in advance that this party was happening, so the girls took it upon themselves to get all the planning done. Brittany bounced from table to table, filling bowls with chips and pretzels, the dim lighting of the basement shining against the rhinestones against her top. Puckerman stood at the bar his parents had built years ago, stocking up on red solo cups for what he was expecting to be a fun night. All of Santana's parties are memorable, and even though this party is taking place at the Puckerman residence, he had no reason to think that this would be any different.

Santana walked in through the side door that connected the basement to the outside with a large box of clinking bottles in her hand. Her low-rise jeans just barely covered anything, letting her short t-shirt ride up and expose jutting hip bones and chiseled abs. Puckerman noticed the way her biceps rippled under her naturally tanned skin as she placed the heavy box down on the bar beside him and began taking the glass bottles out and arranging them in front of him as he read the labels.

"Wow," Puck exclaimed. "How much cash did you dish out on this load, Lopez?" he asked.

Santana chuckled and began to pour herself a tall glass of beer. She didn't want to start off with anything strong, knowing that this was going to be a long night. "Well, let's just say that I'm demanding $25 a head."

"For 40 people? Jeez San. That's like, $1000. You seriously spent that much on booze?"

"Of course not," she smirked. "I spent like, $350 on the booze and like, $200 on other… recreational amenities from my friends down in Lima Heights, if ya know what I mean. That will go to reimburse me, and the rest I'll split with you, 70-30. Deal?"

Puck thought. 70-30 was actually really a fair deal when it came to Santana, and arguing would only piss her off and she would lower his percent until he gave in. "Fine," he said. "What time are these people supposed to be getting here anyway?"

As if on cue, the doorbell upstairs rang. Santana pulled her cell phone out of her cleavage and glanced at the digital clock. "Well lookie here," she announced. "Looks like Berry runs like a fine Swiss Watch. She's exactly on time. I told her to get here a little earlier. Hey Brit," Santana said, turning to the blonde who was slowly dancing around the room, eating chips straight from the bag. "Could you go let Berry in?"

Brittany smiled and bounded up the stairs. "So what's up with you buddying with Rachel?" Puckerman asked. "You know I love you and all, but we both know that you're not doing anything unless there's something in it for you. So what is it? What are you getting out of this?"

Santana faked shock. "You honestly don't think that I could ever decide to settle my differences with Man- I mean, Rachel and allow for the two of us to be friends? Noah, I am so hurt."

Puck rolled his eyes. "I'm serious Santana. You may not be too crazy about Rachel, but I care about her, and I don't want you doing anything to fuck with her. If you're just doing all of this to screw around and make some big joke out of it, it's not funny."

"It's nothing like that," Santana replied. "Believe it or not, I actually _am_ doing something nice for Berry. The fact that I get something out of it is just the icing on the cake."

Brittany opened the door and instantly found herself needing to do a double take. Rachel noticed Brittany's eyes scanning her body and instantly felt a blush creeping into her cheeks.

"Too much?" she asked. Brittany was too caught up in the short, tight red dress that hugged the petite girl's frame in all the right places. She wore mid-calf combat boots with a sexy heel. Her long brown hair fell in loose curls to her shoulders, with a bang that just gently touched chocolate eyes framed with long, black lashes.

"Not at all," Brittany said with a smile. "It's really hot. And different."

"Thanks," Rachel replied with a nervous chuckle. "Santana picked it out for me yesterday and I wasn't entirely sure of what I thought. But based on your reaction I'm assuming I look good."

Brittany noticed how Rachel was shivering and tried to wrap herself deeper into the black pea coat she was wearing, but her legs were still exposed. "Come on inside," Brittany said. "Sanny is waiting for you downstairs."

Rachel had only ever once been inside the Puckerman house, and it was only for a short while to give Noah some sheet music when he was out sick one day. Every other time that the two of them had hung out, it had been at Rachel's house, so she never really had the opportunity to see anything in his house.

Something about Puck made her not expect the walls to be painted warm yellows and exotic greens. She wasn't expecting to see hanging photos of a happy mother, son and young daughter adorning the walls. She wasn't expecting the house to be so comfortable and inviting and so very much unlike the Noah that he tried to be in school. Rachel wondered what type of person Noah was when he was here, basking in this warmth, with his mother and his little sister, Sarah.

Rachel walked down the wooden stairs after Brittany and stepped into the dimmed room. She noticed Santana and Noah standing behind the bar and talking; laughing. She couldn't help but smile as Brittany snuck up behind Santana and placed her hands on the shorter girl's waist, twirling her around as the two danced to a song blissfully. Rachel thought that even if there is no chance of her ever getting with Quinn, she was grateful that Santana was even willing to give her the chance to, and so she was going to make sure she did everything in her power that Santana ends up with her soul mate.

"Looking mighty fine," Puck said from the bar. She glanced over at him and he winked, causing her to laugh as she neared him and took a seat on one of the chrome bar stools.

"And what will the lady be drinking this fine evening," Puck asked.

Rachel shrugged and looked at the bottles in front of her. "I'm guessing you don't have any wine?" she asked hopefully.

Puck chuckled. "You guess right. What type of civilized people do you think we are? We take shots until they're spilling from the corners of our mouths and onto out shirts and chug beer straight from the bottle like it's nobody's business. You're going to have to be a little less classy than a bottle of our best Pinot."

Rachel smiled. "Okay, Mr. Bartender. I trust you. Surprise me, but nothing too strong. The party has not even started yet. I wouldn't want to be passed out in the corner before the guests even arrive."

Puck looked at all the ingredients on the table in front of him and got an idea. Rachel watched as he put some ice into a blender along with a plethora of liquids without even measuring anything out, pouring a wonderfully pink drink into cup along with a matching pink straw. Rachel eyed the drink suspiciously.

"And this is safe?" She asked.

Puck shrugged. "Define safe."

Rachel rolled her eyes and took a tentative sip from the cup, tasting the sweetness of the drink mixing with the bitterness of the alcohol on her tongue. "This is really good," she said, taking another, longer sip. "What is it?"

"Strawberry Daiquiri," he said. "I figured you'd like it."

Rachel heard footsteps coming through the front hall that was above them as people entered the house and made their way down the stairs.

"People just walk right into your house like that?" Rachel asked confused. Santana and Brittany made their way off the make-shift dance floor. Brittany poured herself a line of three shots which she quickly downed while Santana opened another bottle of beer with her teeth.

"That's how it's done," Berry. "You're the only loser who rings the fucking doorbell," Santana said with a chuckle.

"But it's so rude to simply invite yourself inside."

"Think of it this way," Santana argued, taking a large swig from the bottle. "You think its rude now, but imagine having a swarm of people ringing your doorbell when you're piss drunk. Can you imagine drunkenly tearing yourself away from the party, climbing the stairs, and playing the perfect party host who greets all her friends at the door?"

"Well," Rachel said, thinking about it. "When you put it like that…"

Brittany nodded beside Santana. "Exactly," she giggled. Brittany turned her head and watched as some people took bottles of beer off the bar and sat down on the couch. She followed them, spinning in circles as she made their way over to them before plopping down on the floor beside them, engaging in idle chitchat. Rachel watched, worried.

"Is it okay that she's drinking that much that fast?" she asked.

Santana chuckled and downed her second beer, tossing it effortlessly into the recycling bin beside the bar. "Berry," she stating, putting her arm around Rachel's shoulder, "In the fine art of drinking, you are but an amateur. Brits and I, however, are championed veterans. Gold medal winners, if you may. Brittany over there, as wonderfully innocent as she may seem, has built up a tolerance so thick that a full bottle of Jack would barely affect her."

Santana turned to pour herself a shot. Rachel wasn't looking at Santana as she took Rachel's hand in her own, running a line of salt down the inside of the shorter brunette's wrist. Rachel's eyes were on Brittany who danced with a random guy whose name Rachel didn't even know, though she knew he went to school with her, as she felt Santana's tongue trace the salt before taking the shot. "IS that even healthy?" Rachel wondered. Brittany reached over and took someone else's bottle from their hand, took a swig and gave it back. Though Rachel's eyes were thick with worry, Santana seemed to be watching with a bemused expression.

"Probably not," she said honestly. "But I could think of worse ways to die."

Rachel was about to say something back to Santana when she noticed that the Latina's dark eyes were no longer meeting her gaze, but instead were looking just past Rachel's head towards where the staircase was, and where Rachel could hear that familiar clicking of heels against the wooden stairs, so delicately soft that the graceful steps could only belong to one person.

Just the thought of it made Rachel's heart beat quicken.

Santana watched with a smirk as Rachel turned and looked at Quinn, who was slowly descending the staircase like a princess at a royal ball. With one look at her outfit, Santana could tell that Brittany dressed her. There is no way Quinn would have ever gone for such bright and seemingly random colors like that without any coercing from the other blonde. Where Quinn went towards pastels and muted patterns, Brittany was loud shield-your-eyes colors and oh-my-god-is-that-a-duck-print-sweater type clothing.

Rachel couldn't find her breath. She felt her heartbeat quicken and her mouth run dry. All of the air in her lungs, and all of the thoughts in her mind seemed to have been drained out by one Miss Quinn Fabray. Rachel watched as Quinn's eyes scanned the room until they landed on Brittany, and walked delicately over to the other blonde, flattening out her pale pink skirt underneath her before she took a seat on the couch. Rachel heard Santana chuckle beside her and turned towards the sound of the raspy voice, instantly flushing.

"You're crushing hard, Manhands," Santana said, lifting her drink to her full lips. "I get it. Quinn's sorta insanely beautiful, and when she's not bitching, she's a pretty good person, too. And even though there's still that sadistic part of me that would love to watch you crash and burn, I'm gonna tell you to be careful. Yes, Quinn is a beautiful, kind-hearted angel when she wants to be, but she's sad and broken inside. And when I say broken, I mean like jagged pieces of glass sticking out and ready to stab you in the heart if you get too close. I'm not telling you not to go after your girl, but I'm telling you to tread lightly in those deep waters."

Rachel stood and pondered over Santana's surprisingly deep words as she watched the Latina walk over to the couch and extend her hand to Brittany, nodding a brief hello to Quinn. As Brittany stood up and the two of them walked across the room and over to the make-shift dance floor, Rachel just barely noticed Santana catching her eye. That was San's way of telling Rachel to make her move; the ball was in her court now, and it was her turn to call the shots.

Rachel moved her straw aside and quickly chugged half of what was in her cup before impulsively making her way towards the couch beside Quinn.

Quinn watched as Brittany and Santana happily walked away and made their way to the dance floor. In moments, Brittany was putting her incredible dance skills to use, and Santana wasn't too far behind. And then, it wasn't so much dancing anymore. Both girls knew that they could easily blame it on the alcohol, and so lost all inhibitions. If there were less clothes in the equation, their "dancing" could have very well been some sort of sex. Quinn didn't understand how there were still people who didn't see rainbows pouring out of Santana's angry bitch eyes. Brittany was another story. Brittany could wear a giant flashing sign that said "I make out with girls in my free time" and no one would give it a second thought. But the fact that people didn't suspect Santana as being a secret flannel wearer was something that Quinn didn't understand.

She was thrown from her musings as a body slumped themselves down on the couch beside her. She looked over and saw a very flushed Rachel Berry. Quinn's eyes zeroed in on how the tips of Rachel's ears were turning pink and how her chest was rising and falling quickly. It wasn't until Quinn gave the whole scenario a double take that she noticed how incredibly gorgeous Rachel looked.

"May I help you?" Quinn asked, her voice utterly nonchalant.

"Great party, right?" Rachel internally facepalmed at her horrendous attempt at small talk.

Quinn rolled her eyes and looked away. "The greatest." Rachel couldn't help but realize that sarcasm was something Quinn shared with her strong-tempered friend who was dry-humping her almost-girlfriend some twenty feet away.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Rachel offered.

"You playing barkeep for the night, Berry?"

Even Quinn shuttered at how cold she knew she was being. She cursed herself for letting Brittany convince her to come to the party. If it wasn't for Quinn's love for getting drunk and Brittany's adorable puppy-pout, she probably would have been snuggled up in her comforter and watching some chick-flick while eating popcorn and Ben&Jerry's.

"Not exactly," Rachel stated, "But I'd be more than willing to wait on you, if you so wish."

Quinn quirked an eyebrow and looked over at the brunette with a smirk. "Is that your way of hitting on me?" she asked. Rachel instantly felt flustered. Quinn chuckled and stood up, making her way over to the bar and pouring herself a line of three shots. Rachel walked over just in time to watch her expertly down all three in a row.

"I'll never understand how people do that," she mused. "I always cough or choke or something."

"Practice," Quinn answered. "Have I picked up a friendly stalker?"

"Huh?" Rachel wondered.

"You. You sit next to me on the couch. Follow me to the bar. Keep talking to me. You stalking me?"

Rachel realized that in this one moment, she could do what Santana had dared her to do. She could play her cards one of two ways. "Would you mind much if I was?" she asked, taking a risk.

Quinn smirked and Rachel internally fist-pumped at the minor victory. "Guess I wouldn't," Quinn replied. She poured both herself and Rachel another round of drinks. "Come dance with me," she said, leading Rachel to the dance floor.

Rachel didn't know if it was Quinn or the alcohol or the wonderfully lethal combination of the two that caused her to feel her heart beating in her throat, butterflies having seemed to ambush her gut. Whatever feeling it was that Rachel was experiencing, she knew that she never wanted it to end. She would be more than happy being able to fall into a blissful oblivion if this feeling of her dancing with Quinn were the last she ever felt.

Someone somewhere had dimmed the lights even more, leaving the only illumination to be the single light at the bar and the colored, pulsating strobe lights in Noah's basement. Through the rapidly flickering light, Rachel could make out the blurred silhouettes of the other people dancing in the room. Her mind, however, was somewhere else entirely. Her eyes strained to see the other people, but her body was in tune with the blonde who was directly behind her. The blonde who seemed to have her hands resting firmly on Rachel's hips. The blonde who seemed to be so close that Rachel could feel the heat emanating from her very being. The one whose ragged breath she could feel on her neck and ear, causing chills to cascade down her spine.

Quinn's voice vibrated with a chuckle as Rachel visibly relaxed into Quinn's touch, letting the blonde have her way with her. Quinn had left her drink somewhere, but she still felt the familiar buzz of the alcohol coursing through her system as if she was drinking it right at that very moment. Quinn stepped closer to Rachel, her body flush against the shorter girl's back, their hips swaying and gyrating almost in in a desperate unison.

Rachel felt bolder with the alcohol in her and turned herself in Quinn's arms, locking eyes with the taller blonde. Had it not been for the height difference, their faces would have been mere millimeters apart.

Rachel stood up on her tiptoes and lifted her lips to meet Quinn's ear. "Can we go somewhere?" she asked, basically having to yell because of Santana's love for incredibly loud music.

Quinn nodded once and took Rachel by the hand. They stopped over at the bar where Quinn lined up another three shots, lifting each small glass up to her lips and pouring the liquid down her throat. She wiped at her mouth and pulled Rachel through an almost unnoticeable door behind the staircase.

"What is this room?" Rachel asked. Her voice felt almost muted in her own head because of the loud music.

"The guest room." Quinn sat herself down on the bed and took off her shoes. Rachel tried not to stare too much as the light pink fabric of Quinn's skirt rode up along her milky thigh. "What'd you want to talk about?" she asked.

Rachel took a seat on the other side of the bed, leaving a great distance between the two girls. "Has everything been okay, Quinn?" Rachel asked. "You've been acting rather distant and standoffish as of late, and I just wanted to know if there was anything I could possibly do for you."

Quinn snorted. "And why would you want to help me?"

"Well," Rachel thought, carefully holding contact with Quinn's domineering gaze. "I would like to consider us friends. And even if we are not friends in the truest sense of the word, I do of course care about you and your wellbeing."

Quinn shook her head and stood up from the bed. "I need to go find Brittany," she mumbled, not even bothering with her shoes as she headed for the door. Rachel opened her mouth to say something but knew it would be pointless. Instead, she leaned over the bed and took both of Quinn's small shoes into her hand. For a moment, Rachel felt like Prince Charming looking for Cinderella at the ball as she ran away, leaving him with one final relic.

Santana was only slightly pissed when Quinn came over and pulled Brittany away without a word. Santana watched, mouth agape, as Brittany allowed herself to be led away, sending silent apologies Santana's way from across the room. Santana rolled her eyes and went searching for Puck.

Quinn figured that Rachel was still in the guest room, so that was a no. Instead, she led Brittany up two flights of stairs to the top floor of the Puckerman house and sat Brittany down on Puck's sister, Sara's bed. Quinn only had been sitting down for a few moments before she felt tears welling up in her eyes. As if she sensed it, Brittany instantly wrapped her arms around Quinn's small frame, enveloping the shorter girl into dance-toned limbs.

"You wanna talk about it?" Brittany whispered. When Quinn said nothing in return, Brit questioned, "Is this about the darkness?"

Quinn nodded against the taller blonde's soft shoulder. "I want to tell you, but I'm scared," Quinn admitted. "I've never said it out loud. It's like, the moment that I do say it and actually feel the words leave my lips, it's real."

"Isn't it just as real when you think it?" Brittany questioned. "Or else you wouldn't even be thinking about it."

"I… I don't think.. I'm completely straight," Quinn said, dragging out her sentence.

"Oh," Brittany said simply. "That's it?"

Quinn lifted herself from Brittany and furrowed her eyebrows. "What do you mean that's _it_. You make it sound so trivial. So unimportant. Like I didn't just spill out one of my biggest secrets. A secret that has been eating at me from the inside. You can at least attempt to sound sympathetic."

Brittany frowned. "I'm sorry, Quinnie. I just don't see what the big deal is. I sorta knew that already anyway."

"How?"

Brittany shrugged. "I have unicorn radar." Before Quinn could say anything else, Brittany added, "And I've seen you watch Sanny change in the locker room and in the showers and at sleepovers."

Quinn groaned and instantly flushed. "Oh god," she put her hands up to her face and peeked at Brittany through the spaces between her fingers. "You didn't tell Santana, did you?"

"No. But she wouldn't have cared. She's hot. She's used to having people stare at her."

"That's not the point, Britt. The point is that I don't want Santana knowing that I'm…. into girls."

"Why? She won't care."

"Maybe not, but you and I both know that San's got a mouth on her. And yes she can keep a secret, but she's that type of manipulative bitch who wouldn't hesitate but tell everyone my biggest secret the moment I cross her."

Brittany nodded. After a beat she asked. "Are you unicorn, or like, a bicorn?"

Quinn stopped even trying to fully understand everything Brittany was saying and instead just go with it. She had absolutely no idea what Brittany was trying to get at by calling it unicorn and bicorn, but Quinn had a pretty good grasp that somewhere in Brittany's child-like mind, she connected the two words to gay and bisexual.

"I don't know," Quinn said with a sigh. "I mean, I legitimately was in love with Finn, so I can't be gay, right? And Sam. I had feelings for him, too."

"That doesn't mean that much," Brittany said. "Kurt tells me he loves me all the time but we both know he's completely unicorn."

Quinn ran a hand through her hair. "You know what, Britt. I think I'm just gonna go home. I don't really feel in the party mood."

Before Brittany could reply, Quinn stood up and walked out of the room, through the empty upstairs, and out the door into the cool autumn night. Brittany sighed sadly and walked back in search of Santana.

She found the dark brunette at the bar. She leaned against a doorframe and watched as Santana lined up six shots, filled them to the brim, and used her thin hand to lift each to her lips, tilting her head back as she poured the clear liquid down her throat. Brittany snuck up behind her and wrapped her arms around the brunette. For a moment, she could feel Santana's body tense under hers. But when Santana's mind registered that only Brittany would ever have the balls to approach Santana in that way, San relaxed and melted into her embrace. Brittany chuckled and placed gentle kisses along her jaw line.

"What are you doing?" San said, finally slightly beginning to slur her words. For a girl who loves feeling the buzz of alcohol coursing through her veins, it sure does take a lot of it to get her tipsy.

"Kissing you," Brittany mumbled, lips vibrating against Santana's skin.

Santana chuckled. "Yeah, Brit. I got that bit. But why?"

Brittany moved her lips to Santana's ear and gently took the tanned earlobe between her teeth, pulling ever so slightly. She heard Santana release a soft moan and Brittany smiled. "Because you're hot," she whispered.

Santana stood up from the bar stool, took Brittany by the hand, and led her up to Puckerman's room.

When Quinn finally found her way to her house, she wasn't surprised in the slightest to see that her mother wasn't home. In fact, Quinn was relieved. The moment her feet made it into her house, she slammed the white wooden door behind her so hard that she was sure the entire house shook. But Quinn was beyond caring. She broke down.

Through tear-filled eyes, Quinn found her way into the kitchen. She stumbled through the house, undressing herself until she stood naked in the cool air that was her house. Naked feet and skin against tiled walls and floors. Exposed and vulnerable.

Without thinking, she crossed the kitchen until her hand landed on the drawer that contained the silverware. She pulled it open quickly and reached in, grabbing hold of the first shining blade that she could find.

Quinn sat herself down on the freezing tiles and leaned against the coolness of the refrigerator. With eyes clouded with tears, and lifted the knife to her upper thigh and dragged it along the pale skin. Like ink from a pen, a line of blood formed on her thigh, pooling up before it began dripping down her leg and onto the white floor beneath her. Quinn watched with a fatal fascination.

Again and again she ran that knife along her skin. First one thigh and then the other. Tears flowed like the blood.

Quinn was drowning, and she couldn't find a branch to hold on to.

**I'm more than willing to take suggestions as to what is going to happen next. I mean, i have this general concept in my mind of what i want the ultimate ending of the story to be, but there's no set path on how to get there yet. If anyone has anything that wants to be said or any quirky scenarios to be explored like Brittany setting Quinn and Rachel up on a blind date or exploring what's truly going on with Santana owing some bad people a lot of money, just say the word and i'll go there. **

**So, any suggestions?**

**Reviews make me smile :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**So, I'm realizing that writing Santana is very fun, because she's wonderfully bitchy and blunt and not afraid to stray away from vulgarities. I do know that i am making Quinn a bit of an emotional wreck, but that's how i have always seen her. To me she's that carefully constucted mask on the outside, but just beneath the surface is a volcano that is just waiting to erupt. **

Rachel woke to the sound of giggles. But as soon as she even tried to open her eyes, those giggles were quickly drown out by the sound of her heart pulsating in her head as a sign of what was bound to be a pretty nasty hangover. Rachel felt a sharp finger digging itself into her side.

"Sanny," a voice of giggles said. "Stop that. It's mean."

"Her fault for falling asleep in Puckerman's sister's room." Another voice said. There was another poke at her stomach. Rachel's mind vaguely registered the fact that she lifted her arm to swat away the poking finger, but her arm felt like it was heavy and impossible to move.

"Hey," said the second voice. "Look. Midget's moving." Rachel's brain finally identified the distinct, gravely tone to Santana's voice and figured that any giggles that come along with that have to belong to none other than Brittany.

"Sanny," Brittany said. "Maybe give her some of those magic beans."

Rachel fought what felt like the biggest battle of her life as she tried to open her eyes, but the moment that the slightest amount of sunlight began making its way behind her eyelids, she shut them back tightly and grabbed a hold of the pillow beside her, pressing it against her face as she groaned in pain. She heard Santana give a quiet chuckle and Rachel felt like she wanted to throw daggers at the other brunette's face.

"Okay," Santana sighed. Rachel felt a small, but deceptively strong pair of arms wrap themselves around her body and literally lift her up as Rachel was sat upright and propped against the light pink headboard of Sarah's room. It was then that Rachel finally opened her eyes and gasped. Santana was standing in front of her wearing only the smallest, sexiest red lace bra and panty set that made her tanned skin look almost edible in contrast. The sight alone would have boys drooling. But that wasn't what had caught Rachel's eye. It was the fact that just three feet behind the underwear-clad sex symbol was Brittany, who was wearing nothing but a t-shirt and visibly no bra underneath. Rachel tried hard not to let her eyes wander down to where the smiling blonde wore no clothing at all, but Rachel couldn't seem to help it.

She felt her cheeks flush. "Brittany," she stammered. "You're... Uh... You're not wearing any underwear."

Brittany's smile turned into a frown. "I know," she said. "Sanny ripped them off me last night. And it was one of my favorite pairs, too! It was my yellow thong with the pink kitties on it."

Rachel noticed a distinct bruise on the inside of Brittany's left thigh, dangerously close to her lady-bits, that slightly resembled a bite mark. It was then that Rachel noticed that Santana's body seemed to be covered in faded nail-marks, as if someone had been dragging their nails up and down her back, arms, and taut stomach all night long. Rachel shivered at the very thought.

Santana rolled her eyes but smiled. "I told you, Britts, I'll buy you a new pair."

Santana held out a water bottle to Rachel. "Britt, give me the magic beans." Brittany reached into the drawer and Rachel heard what sounded like pills in a plastic container as Brittany poured a few into Santana's hand.

Rachel eyed her suspiciously. "Magic beans?"

"Aspirin," Santana replied. She extended a large handful of pills. "Eat up."

"That's a few too many, don't you think?"

Santana shrugged. "The more the merrier."

Rachel shook her head and took only two pills from Santana's hand. "I find your lose interpretation of recommended dosages to be rather concerning."

"It's only 'recommended'," Santana claimed.

"Hey Rachel," Brittany asked, plopping herself down on the bed as Rachel swallowed the two pills and followed it with a long sip from the water bottle. "Why were you sleeping with Quinn's shoe in the bed?"

Both Rachel and Santana looked over to where Brittany was holding both of Quinn' small shoes in her hands. This time it was Santana's turn to look at Rachel with accusation and questions.

"Hey Brit-Brit, can you go downstairs and make the two of us some coffee?"

"Can I have some hot-chocolate?"

Santana smiled with what Rachel could only describe as pure adoration and love. "If Puck has some in the kitchen, then go for it. By the way, party-boy is on the bed in the guest room. See if you can pry his naked body away from that hot ginger that he banged last night and tell him that he better get his ass to cleaning. His mom is gonna be home in five hours and this place is a wreck."

Brittany fake saluted and said, "You got it Captain Sexy." With a giggle and a skip, she was out of the room.

Santana wasted no time in looking over at Rachel. "Spill," she demanded. "What happened between you and Q? I saw the two of you getting handsy in the basement and then the two of you were both gone. I just assumed that the two of you were off doing the dirty somewhere."

Images and memories started flowing Rachel's mind. The flashing of the strobe lights. The images of bodies dancing to a beat that she had felt thumping deep within her chest. The feeling of Quinn's hands on her waist and hips. The warmth of Quinn's breath against the back of her neck. The two of them being along in the small bedroom. Quinn standing up and suddenly leaving. The three hours Rachel spent crying. The eight text messages she had sent Quinn throughout the night. The one reply she had gotten, with a simple, "I can't right now. I'm sorry."

Rachel felt herself beginning to cry again.

Santana panicked. She never really was good with tears. Well, she was. When she was the one causing them, that is. Or when it's someone that she couldn't give two flying shits about and she could just stand back and soak in their misery. She couldn't do that with Rachel. She had promised the smaller girl that she would help her get Quinn on her arm, and that meant being there and putting up with the tears and the heartbreak.

As Rachel seemed to break down beside her, Santana sighed. She let herself onto the bed and under the covers, sliding herself until she was directly beside the distressed girl. She could feel Rachel's body momentarily tense, and she assumed it had something to do with the fact that she was barely clothed. But when she put her arm around Rachel's stomach and was basically spooning the girl, that tenseness melted away and Rachel allowed herself to be swallowed by Santana's small yet strong frame.

A few minutes of Rachel's sobbing passed as Santana tried to whisper reassuring nothings into Rachel's ear, drawing aimless circles along the smaller girl's stomach. When the sobs turned into gentle hiccups, Santana slowly asked, "You wanna talk about it?"

She wasn't expecting Rachel to basically start ranting.

"I think I might be falling in love with her," Rachel admitted, staring ahead of her instead of at the surprisingly attentive Latina beside her. "But it seems like every time I try to get close to her, she pushes herself away from me. I'm sick of it, Santana. I'm tired of feeling like I'm giving my heart full control of my actions when I know that I have so many more important things to worry about. Isn't it enough that I'm with Finn right now and yet lusting after his ex-girlfriend? The girlfriend that he had left me for time and time again? The girl that I had wished I was for years and the girl that had tormented me from the moment I met her. It doesn't make sense for me to be this in love with her, but I am. And I can't do anything about it. And I feel like I'm giving her my everything, or at least trying to give it all to her, but she won't take it. There are times that I think that maybe I see it in her eye. Maybe she feels the same way about me too, but then she pulls away from me and I don't know what to think anymore."

Tears started up again and Santana took this time to carefully choose her words.

"Rachel," she began, "I told you last night. Quinn puts on a good mask. On the outside, her face is calm, cool and collected. But still waters run pretty fucking deep. She's screwed up in side. Little miss perfect Fabray isn't as perfect as the world thinks she if. Her home life sucks. She sort of hates herself. She feels like she'll never be good enough, even when she's the fucking best at something. She can be on top of the world, and she still lives in this delusion that there's someone above her judging her. She calls this religion. I think its bullshit and she's just hating on herself. She's not the type of person where you can just say hi and she'll reveal all her biggest darkest secrets. There are things about her that I wouldn't doubt for a minute you and I will never know about her. But like I said, she's complicated. This isn't going to be easy, but I know it's possible."

"But what if she's 100% straight and I'm just completely wasting my time?"

"It's not wasting your time."

"How would you know?" Rachel questioned, laying her face against Santana's chest, no longer thrown off by the fact that the girl beside her is literally barely dressed. Her tears fell from her cheeks and onto Santana's chest, seeming to flow in her cleavage. Santana fought the urge to push Rachel away.

She sighed. "I know because I fucking know for a _fact_ that Quinn isn't completely straight."

Well that certainly got Rachel's attention.

"Wh-What?" she stammered, wiping at her eyes. "What do you mean she's not straight?"

"First off, I have seen her checking out numerous girls throughout the years, and have often times actually caught her blatantly staring at me naked in the Cheerios showers after practice. I've even made a little show of it once or twice, bending over to get something or walking past her completely naked and asking her a question like I was daring her not to look at my body. And besides that, she and I drunkenly hooked up at Cheer camp last summer."

"What?" Rachel sat completely up and looked over at Santana. "How could you have not told me?"

Santana shrugged and used a small blanket on the bed to wipe up Rachel's tears from her chest. "I just didn't, okay? She was completely piss drunk, and I'm fairly certain she doesn't remember a single moment of it. Or if she does, she hasn't once mentioned it since."

"Does Brittany know about this?"

"Of course Brittany knows. But she's not talking. You get that girl to pinky promise and she will take your secret to the grave. She's nothing if not loyal."

Rachel shook her head. "I still can't believe you slept with her."

"Yeah, well. Whatever. I've done better, but she's not bad, if that's what you're wondering."

Rachel's face immediately flushed and Santana laughed. "If we're gonna be friends, you really need to stop doing that."

"Are we?" Rachel asked. "Are we friends."

Santana paused. "Not yet," she said. "But there's potential. You're not as much of a fucking freak as I thought you were, but you still gotta work on not being so damn annoying all the time."

Rachel chuckled nervously as Santana got up off the bed and began walking towards the door. "I smell coffee," she mumbled. "See you downstairs."

Before she fully stepped out the door, Rachel called out, "Hey Santana." Santana turned around to look at the small girl. She looked almost childlike with her big doe eyes and disheveled hair as she was wrapped up in the bubblegum pink comforter of Sarah's bed. "Thank you," she said. "For everything. Even if we aren't friends yet. It means a lot to me, especially coming from you."

Santana nodded once and stepped out the door, leaving Rachel with the realization that that just might be as much of an acknowledgement from Santana as she was going to get.

Santana made her way down the stairs quickly, only once tripping over a person whose legs she didn't see because they were passed out half behind the couch. She made her way to the kitchen and stopped to look at Brittany. She blonde, who was still naked from the waist down," had a mug of coffee waiting on the counter top, its steam beckoning to a caffeine addicted Santana. The brunette smiled at the adorable way that Brit tried to figure out how to use to toaster. She had the toast in the slots, but when she pushed down on the little lever, the toast would just pop back up.

Santana moved quietly across the kitchen and pressed her body against the blonde's, feeling the curve of her naked backside against her own barely-clothed front. Brittany stopped moving and watched as Santana's tanned hand reached out onto the counter, unplugged the coffeemaker and plugged in the toaster.

"Oh," Brittany sighed. She slumped her shoulders, furrowed her eyebrows and pouted a little bit. "I should have noticed that."

Santana smiled and placed a kiss on Britt's collar bone. "I'll make you breakfast, if you do me a favor. Text Quinn. Tell her to meet me at Breadstix tonight."

The sound of her cell phone vibrating against the linoleum floor near her leg woke Quinn from a sleepless dream. She blindly reached out in the general direction of the buzzing, hoping to find her phone. When her hand landed in a wet puddle, she opened her eyes and lifted her hand to her face, shocked only for a moment to find her fingers stained red with blood.

Quinn looked down at the rows of slashes on the tops of both thighs and the puddle of blood she sat in. Quinn's muscles ached from the effort it took to her on her feet. She instantly peeled off her saturated skirt and tossed it in the kitchen sink. She took a handful of paper towels and wet them. She only winced slightly when she got on her knees to start scrubbing the floor. Before she did, she checked her phone. It was a text from Brittany.

_Hey Q. Where'd you run off to last night? I didn't see you leave. Sanny wants you to meet her at Breadstix tonight._

Quinn quickly texted back a reply.

_Sorry, Britt. I wasn't really in the partying mood. I went home. Tell San I'll be there._

As she started cleaning the floor, Quinn thought back to what exactly had happened the night before. Quinn was no stranger to a good party, and in her 17 short years, she's experienced more terrible hangovers than she could count. She was completely used to the feeling of having absolutely no idea what she did or said the night before. But Quinn did have some images flash through her mind, though, all seemed like something out of a dream.

She distinctly remembered the strawberry scent of Rachel's hair. She remembered the soft material that was Rachel's dress. She remembers the warmth of her skin. She remembers the look in her eyes and the smile on her lips and the sound of her whisper right against her ear as she leaned in close to try to keep all of her words just between the two of them…

This was more than a dream. Dreams were not that vivid. A dream wouldn't leave her with that wonderfully nostalgic feeling of remembering the joy in her laughter mixed with that distinct smell of alcohol on her breath.

That was more than a dream. It was memory.

"Holy shit," Quinn said aloud. Her house was more than empty, so she had no fear of anyone thinking she was insane.

Quinn did the first thing she could think of.

She pulled out her cell phone and pushed speed dial number three.

Number one was Finn, number two was Santana.

"Hello?" Brittany answered.

"Britt," Quinn sighed. "What the fuck happened last night?"

Brittany giggled on the other end of the line. "You hung over Q? You didn't seem too drunk last night. You weren't yelling like you usually do. But after you and Rach went upstairs, she seemed a little upset, so maybe you yelled at her."

Quinn heard Santana's voice in the background. "Who you talking to, Boo-Bear?"

"Brittany," Quinn said. "Don't tell San it's me."

Quinn heard a hand being put over the mouthpiece of the phone and Brittany saying, "My mom. Hush."

"You think you can get away from San for a sec? We need to talk."

"Sure thing Madre. See? Sanny taught me a new word."

Quinn resisted the urge to chuckle. After a few moments, Brittany spoke again. "Okay. I'm alone. I'm in Puck's room. It still smells like sex in here. Would it be polite if Sanny and I changed his sheets as a way of thanking him for us using his bed last night?"

Quinn shook her head. She knew better than anyone else that there was more than a little something-something going on between her two best friends. The two of them had known each other their entire lives. And even though Quinn only joined them freshman year, officially turning the duo into a trio, there wasn't a doubt in Quinn's mind that the two were hopelessly in love. And while Brittany may be more than okay with shouting from the rooftops that she's bi, all while wearing a rainbow glitter jumpsuit and shooting confetti out of a bedazzled machine gun, Santana is a harder nut to crack. Quinn knows that Santana's inner sparkly rainbow only comes out at parties where she can blame it on the alcohol.

But Quinn knew exactly where that fear was coming from in Santana's case. Quinn first met Santana at church. Quinn, being the ever so obedient daughter, came with her parents the very first Sunday after they moved into Lima. Quinn was dressed in a pale pink sundress with a while cardigan and a purple bow in her hair. Her mother pointed out a girl Quinn's age who wore dark jeans, red high tops, and a matching red blouse. Her hair fell in loose curls around her face. Quinn thought she looked beautiful, but Mother Fabray couldn't help but criticize how she couldn't believe how the girl's grandmother could have possibly let her come into a house of worship dressed like she was going to go do work in the yard.

Of course, Mother Fabray's opinions were not voiced when the ever-so-sweet-and-religious abuela came and introduced herself and her granddaughter Santana to the obviously-new-in-town Fabrays. That Santana is a Santana that Quinn had never again seen outside of church. Quinn's first impression of the girl was that she had an obvious fire in her eyes, but Quinn didn't quite know where it came from. All she could see was that Santana was the epitome of a well-behaved church-going girl whenever she was around her grandmother.

That's why Quinn knows that Santana isn't just afraid for herself and for her own reputation. Santana is afraid of losing her abuela and the only family she really has.

"I don't know Britt," Quinn replied. "In all honesty, I don't really think Puckerman is going to care one way or another."

"Good point. Now that I think of it, I don't think he ever changes his sheets."

"Kay. Back to my point. So I went upstairs with Rachel? Alone?"

"Yeah," Brittany answered nonchalantly. "You guys started dancing and everything. And you danced for a while and got all super close. Your hands were all over her, but she looked like she was liking it. I was dancing with Sanny, so I didn't really see much. But at one point I looked over and you guys weren't there anymore, and I saw your shoes as you were going upstairs."

"And then what?"

"After a while you came back down and pulled me upstairs, and we talked about the darkness for a while, and then you left. Like an hour later, Rachel came down too, but she looked really upset. And she walked up to the bar and did a line of shots and then just kinda sat by the bar drinking alone for the rest of the night. Or at least as much as I saw. Then me and Sanny went upstairs to-"

"Yeah I get it, Britt. I can do the math from there. Have you spoken to Rachel since?"

"Sanny and I didn't come back downstairs last night. But this morning we found her in Sarah's room. Oh, by the way, I have your shoes. Both of them. They were in Sarah's bed. But I haven't talked to Rach. San did. They were upstairs for a while just talking. But I don't know about what."

Quinn sighed. She didn't really feel like getting Santana involved in any of this, so she was going to have to deal with Brittany's half-information. "Thanks Britt."

"Don't forget about Breadstix tonight!"

"Right. I remember. Tell San I'll be there."

"Kay. I'll tell Sanny to bring you your shoes. Bye Bye Quinine."

Quinn smiled and shook her head at the pure happiness she felt in Brittany's voice. Sometimes Quinn thought that if she could somehow find a way to bottle even a fraction of Brittany's happiness and sell it, she would make millions. "Bye Britt."

After spending a few more hours at the Puckerman household being the good guest that she is and help Noah, Brittany and Santana clean the place up, Rachel went back to her house. What she wasn't expecting was for Santana to show up at her house only another hour and a half afterwards with news for Rachel.

"I set you up," Santana said, flopping down on Rachel's bed like she owned it. "You're welcome."

Rachel was flabbergasted. "Y-You what? With whom? Why?"

"We playing twenty questions? Does it fucking matter? Are you noticing that I can be just as good at this game as you are? Get dressed. Don't want to be late."

Rachel huffed and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I am not."

"Nice hissy fit," Santana said as she got up from the bed and crossed the room towards the closet. "May I suggest adding a foot stomp or door slam? An actress like you needs to know how to put on a good show."

Rachel rolled her eyes in such a way that Santana would be more than impressed had she not had her back turned to the shorter brunette. "I'm still not going to pick out an outfit for the blind date that I'm not going on."

"Oh you're going," Santana said simply. "But you're right. It's probably best you don't pick out the outfit. Here, wear this."

Before Rachel could react, clothes were being tossed at her face. A black V-neck t-shirt that she forgot she owned and a bright red skirt that she had received from her aunt for her birthday the year before.

Rachel scrunched up her nose in disgust. "What, no fishnets?"

She wasn't expecting Santana to reach into her pocket and toss a pair at her. "Not totally stripper. They're pattered to look like lace. Just hope they're not too long for your midget legs."

Rachel sighed and looked at Santana awkwardly. "Are you-uh, going to turn around or leave the room or…"

"Self-conscious?" Santana asked with a devilish smirk. When Rachel's face began to blush, Santana threw in a wink and blew a kiss to completely flush Rachel's face red. Santana laughed and leaned back against the headboard of the bed. "Oh just fucking get naked already. I'm not going to molest you."

"Can never be too sure with you," Rachel mumbled under her breath. Rachel hesitated for only a moment before beginning to unbutton the skirt she was wearing. "So are you going to tell me who you set me up with?"

"Nope," Santana said. She found a scrapbook Rachel had on her bedside table and began to flip through the pages with little to no interest.

"Can I at least know where this date is going to be?"

"Breadstix."

"Okay…. And may I ask _why_ you felt the need to set me up on a date that is completely unnecessary?"

Santana sighed and shut the book loudly; eyes barely even skittering over Rachel's partially clothed body before she answered. "Look. Maybe you're not as much of a freakishly short, annoying little person as I thought you were. Yes you're short and yes you're annoying, but not nearly to the degree that I thought you were. I decided to help you get Quinn because I felt like maybe I should do something nice at least once in my life, and sorta hoped that maybe it would lead to some good things with me and Britt. But after seeing you all ripped to pieces this morning, even my heartless-self felt a little bit bad, and I decided that maybe setting you up on this one date might make you smile just a little bit."

Rachel pulled the t-shirt over her head and looked at Santana. "You know, that just may be one of the sincerest things I have ever heard you say."

Santana groaned. "Don't say that ever again. Now hurry your ass up. I don't want you to be late. I'm driving by the way."

"Why?"

Santana grinned. "To make sure you go. Girl's gonna need a chaperone. Besides, if you don't know who you're meeting, how you gonna know whose table you're supposed to sit that ass down at? By the way, either put on a thong or don't wear any underwear. Your panty lines are disgusting me."

Quinn walked into Breadstix and glanced around the room to see if she saw a familiar head of brown, but saw nothing.

"Excuse me," she said, turning to the hostess. "Do you know if Santana is here?"

Quinn tried not to chuckle as the woman's smile quickly faded. "No," she said with a sigh. "That girl is not here." Well, Santana does have a bit of a reputation here. Long story short: the staff absolutely hates her.

"Okay," Quinn said. "Well, can I have a table for two? Santana will be joining me soon." The hostess tried not to show too much obvious dislike as she called over a waitress, handed the girl two menus, and wished Quinn a lovely meal.

Santana drove her bright red convertible right up to the first parking spot by the building. Rachel had to hold onto her seat in fear because of Santana's erratic driving. Between speeding, not wearing a seatbelt, blasting alternative rock music that Rachel had never heard before, and sharp turns that have Rachel fearing for her life, she's surprised at how relatively uneventful the drive actually was. Part of her was expecting to never even make it to the restaurant alive.

The two girls walked out of the car and started heading inside. Santana reached over and started adjusting Rachel's hair and makeup and clothes only to have Rachel swat away her hands. When they made it inside, the girls instantly smiled at the hostess.

"Hello." The phony charm in Santana's voice was almost too much to handle.

"Your friend is waiting," she said. "Table four. Would you like me to escort you or do you think you can find your way by now?" Rachel had never heard one of the workers speak so rudely to a customer. But considering this was Santana, Rachel assumed it was all with good reason.

"Nope. I'm good. You know, maybe I should start getting paid for this," Santana began as she started walking away. Over her shoulder she called out, "Since _you're_ not doing your job."

Rachel turned her head and mouthed an apology to the older woman and quickly walked to keep up with Santana. She eyed the room, trying to see if there was anyone she knew. There were some of her parents' friends, her history teacher and what she assumes to be his wife and kids, a couple of groups of young teenagers, a few couples Rachel can't seem to place and-

Shit. Rachel's eyes zeroed in on the back of a blonde head. Rachel didn't need to see the girl's face to know exactly who that was. She quickly grabbed Santana by the arm and brought her to a stand-still.

"Quinn?" Rachel hissed. "Your brilliant idea at setting me up on a blind date is _Quinn_?"

Santana shrugged. "Yeah. That would be why she's sitting there."

"And what was her reaction to knowing that you set the two of us up?"

"Not sure yet, but we'll find out as soon as you fucking pull your claws out of my skin." Santana pulled her arm out of Rachel's grasp. "Will you fucking relax? Just trust me. Things can't possibly end _that_ badly."

Rachel sighed. "How did you even get her here?"

"Told her to meet me here. Yeah. It really is that easy. Now come on." Before Rachel even had the chance to further object, Santana took her by the hand and lead her to the table.

Quinn looked up at the sound of footsteps. "Hey San," she said. It was then that Quinn noticed that Santana wasn't alone. Beside her stood a very nervous looking Rachel.

"Hey," the brunette said meekly. Quinn looked up at Santana's pleased smirk and knew instantly. Brittany walked over to the table and linked her arm with Santana's.

"Surprise!" she said. She turned to Santana. "Sanny, can I have shrimp again."

"Sure thing. Only if we can get the tiramisu for desert."

Brittany kissed the brunette on the cheek. "Deal."

"Excuse me," Quinn interrupted. "May someone please tell me what's going on?"

"Well," Brittany began. "Sanny knew that Rach was upset. And I knew that you were upset. So, Sanny and I thought that you two can get something to eat together and talk, and maybe that'd make you guys less upset if you can be together."

"By Rachel's facial expression, I'm guessing she knew about as much about this plan as I did. Why didn't you tell me that I was going to be having dinner with her?"

"Would you have come?" Rachel asked quietly.

Quinn looked up and the two locked eyes. "Maybe."

Santana smiled and clapped her hands together. "And that's our cue to leave. So, Rach you have a seat right here across from Quinn, and Britt and I are gonna go eat at that free table over there. Holler if you need me, and don't try to run away from this."

**hmm.. what should happen in the next chapter? Suggestions?**

**Reviews make me smile :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**So... there's a lot of emotions going with this one. I cried while writing it. So much of this just really hits home with me. I know that a lot of this story has been about the Faberry relationship. The Brittana has been much more subtle, but i promise those of you who have questioned it that the Brittana part of this story will be coming soon. This bit is going to be a little shorter, but it's got a lot in it. **

**like i said, emotions are running high. lots of things are said. if anything could be triggering, please don't read. **

Rachel watched as Brittany and Santana walked over to a table on the other side of the restaurant. Brittany looked over at her and smiled and waved. Rachel was nervous. It was like her heart was pounding from somewhere outside of her chest. For a moment, it was like she was completely paralyzed with fear.

"You can sit down, you know," Quinn said quietly. Rachel jumped at the sound of her voice. "The two of them obviously had this whole thing planned, so they're not going to be letting us leave any time soon. No point in you standing."

Rachel hesitated for a moment before sliding into the booth across from Quinn. Rachel looked up at Quinn's face for the first time since she realized that she was set up with the blonde. Quinn looked just as beautiful as always. Her skin seemed to glow in a way that made her like the angels she would read of in the Bible. Her blonde hair was like liquid gold. Her eyes a brighter shade of blue than Rachel had ever seen them. But Rachel was caught on her eyes. There, behind that layer of composure that Quinn wore as an expression, her eyes showed a fear that Rachel had never seen in the girl.

Quinn was just as nervous as she was.

"So," Rachel began, "about last night…"

"What about it?"

"Do you want to… you want to talk about it?"

"What is there to talk about?"

Rachel sighed. "Quinn, may I speak freely for a moment?"

"If I say no, is that really going to stop you?"

Rachel ignored the snarky comment and went on. "Was I imagining everything last night? I mean, I know that I had more than my fair share of alcohol, but I couldn't possibly have been intoxicated enough to have been hallucinating, or to be confusing reality with the fantasy of my dreams. But I remember us dancing, and flirting, and you leading me upstairs to Noah's sister's bedroom. I know that happened, and I know what it meant to me, but I haven't the slightest idea what it meant to you."

Quinn felt uncomfortable, but she wasn't going to let Rachel see it. What was she going to do? Tell the brunette that she was infatuated with her? That wasn't going to go over well in Quinn's book. Quinn considered herself liberated enough at the fact that she admitted her possible bisexuality to Brittany. Yes, there was a bit of drinking involved before Quinn could get to that state, but it was still a big decision that she was fully conscious of. Though she didn't quite want to reveal all her secrets to Rachel, Quinn felt like Rachel was giving her no choice but to divulge some.

Quinn sighed. "Rach, No. You weren't imagining it. Yes we flirted. Yes we danced. Yes I took you upstairs so we could be alone. Honestly, I don't know what I was thinking was going to happen in that room. I think we both know that I drank a little more than I should have. Maybe there was a part of me that really just wanted to talk, or maybe I even was hoping that we'd hookup or make out or something like that. I was drunk."

"Santana once told me that drunken words are sober thoughts."

"Santana also doesn't see a problem with the fact that she regularly sells her body to random gang members that she is acquainted with to get her way with drugs and any other illegal business that she has involved herself with. She's not exactly a fortune cookie of wisdom."

Rachel furrowed her eyebrows. "Santana is a prostitute?"

"Not in so many words, and also not my point. My point is, she doesn't always know what she's talking about."

"She seemed to be fairly certain of what she was talking about when she admitted to me that the two of you have had sex."

It was just at that moment that the waitress stepped up to the table. "Are you girls ready to order?" she asked.

Quinn stared, baffled at the words that had just left Rachel's mouth. In a short moment, she composed herself and smiled at the waitress. "I'll have fettuccini alfredo, please."

The waitress wrote it down on her notebook, nodding as Quinn spoke. "And for you?" she asked Rachel.

"I would love a plate of your vegan vegetable lasagna," Rachel beamed. "It's delicious."

The waitress offered a half-hearted smile as she wrote it down. "I'll be back with your orders soon," she said, and headed off in the direction of the kitchen.

Quinn made sure she was out of earshot before she started speaking again. "Santana told you _what_?" she hissed.

Rachel lowered her voice, sensing that it was a rather touchy subject for Quinn. "She told me that you two had sex. She said you were drunk, and that she is not even particularly sure if you recall the event, but she does."

Of course Quinn remembered. It was about a month into their freshman year. Santana had found a way into the "it" crowed, be it through pure manipulation, intimidation, and promises of sexual favors, and she had gotten herself, Quinn and Brittany invited to their first high school party. At her old school, Quinn didn't exactly fit in. She wasn't used to the party scene. So, when red solo cups were being passed around the room that night, and Quinn took sips from most all of them, it wasn't long before her insides felt all warm, and her head was buzzing, the lights seemed to flash a little brighter and everything was just a little better. A few more sips and Quinn couldn't even stand upright without the help of a still somewhat sober Santana holding her up.

The next time that Quinn remembers being up on her own two feet without putting her weight on Santana was actually when she seemed to have the Latina pinned against the pale blue wall of an upstairs bathroom.

The memories come in flashes of kisses, trailing tongues, touches that seem to linger even years later, and rather permanent visions of Santana's naked body. The next day, when she found herself in her own bedroom, naked on her bed, and a clothed Santana sleeping on the small sofa near the bookshelf, Quinn figured it be best to play it off like she had no recollection of the event. In truth, she lost her virginity to Santana that night. Santana was her first, through Quinn never wanted her to count as such. Quinn was drunk, so it wasn't special. She didn't remember every wonderful detail, so she could easily pretend that it didn't happen. It was with another girl, so Quinn could convince herself that it didn't really count as her first time.

But it did happen.

"Yeah," Quinn admitted. "I hooked up with Santana. So?"

"Quinn, may I ask you a question?"

Quinn huffed and rolled her eyes, taking a sip of the unsweetened iced tea in front of her. "Anyone ever tell you it's annoying to ask permission all the time like that?"

"You're not straight, are you." It wasn't so much a question as it was an observation.

Quinn took another sip of her tea, attempting to act utterly nonchalant even though she felt her heart beating in every part of her body, so loudly that it seemed to be echoing within the confines of her head. She focused on keeping her voice steady. "On NCIS, they said that 'It's better to ask forgiveness than seek permission,' or something like that. I think it's pretty good advice." Rachel watched as the blonde took a breadstick from the basket and began tearing it apart in her hands before she took a Lilliputian bite.

"You're deflecting," Rachel accused.

"What do you want me to say?"

"The truth."

Brittany smiled up at the waitress who placed the shrimp in front of the blonde, but the waitress did not notice. She was too preoccupied with keeping her eye on Santana, who only seemed to look at her with a smirk of sorts that caused the waitresses hair to stand on end. Never had she had the opportunity to be the infamous girl's server, but her coworker's accounts seem to indicate that this night may be a long one. She placed a plate of chicken parm in front of the girl and walked away.

"What do you think they're talking about?" Santana asked, turning to look at Quinn and Rachel. They looked like they were having a rather intense conversation, and Santana sort of regretted that she had picked a table so far away that she couldn't eavesdrop. But that was the point. Santana would have been completely content with sitting in the table directly behind them where she could hear every word that was being said, but Brittany was the one who insisted that the two girls would want their privacy.

"Would you want people listening to the things we talk about?" she asked. The moment she said that, Santana knew it would be a losing battle, and so the two sat as far away as they could with Santana still being able to see the two girls.

"Sanny," Brittany said suddenly, "what's that on your wrist?"

Santana looked down and saw a distinct bruise marring the tanned caramel of her skin. "Just a bruise," she said, pushing around her food with her fork.

"It looks pretty bad." Realization hit Brittany and it was evident on her face. "Sanny," she said, eyes wide. "You said you would stop hanging around with those bad guys after that time that they hurt you."

"I know, Brit-Brit. But I needed to." Santana was not one to get nervous, but this wasn't a conversation that she wanted to have.

"Did they get angry at you again?"

Santana shrugged and lifted her fork to her lips. "A little," she said. "They want their money. I owe them shitloads of money. But you and I both know that I can't pay that right now. Papi is out in LA and I haven't talked to him in months, and Mami barely has any money to pay for the house. Any money that I manage to get from somewhere is pretty much used on me and my hermanito. You know that."

Brittany nodded and took a sip of soda. "So what did they say when you told them you didn't have their money?"

Santana looked down at the table and fiddled with the edge of her napkin. "They told me they could think of another way for me to pay them back."

A silent understanding passed between them. Brittany wasn't happy with the arrangement. Brittany wasn't happy at all that Santana even got caught up with these gang members, but that's what she gets for growing up in Lima Heights Adjacent. Santana always said how she grew up seeing shady street corner deals and scantily clad girls walking up and down roads slowly, peeking their head into cars that stopped before them. Santana saw groups of hooded boys walking down the streets like packs of hunting dogs. She no longer flinches much at the sound of a gunshot. Lima Heights isn't like Lima.

But as much as Brittany was worried for Santana's safety of her being with these guys, she'd be far more worried if Santana wasn't. Santana always said to her that not only should you befriend the powerful, but you should befriend those who make you powerful. Santana might be in with some pretty dangerous people. But she's an asset to them. Better to be on their side than against them.

And as for the whole sex as a payment thing, Brittany isn't ecstatic about that, but the two of them aren't in any sort of relationship, really. Brittany can go ahead and be worried for Santana. She can be slightly confused when an assortment of condoms falls out of the lesbian's purse. She can be a lot of things, but she can't be the jealous girlfriend, because as much as she may want to be, she's not Santana's girlfriend.

"Is it just that bruise?" Brittany asked. She remembered the last time Santana had made a deal with the guys. Brittany was in bed when she got a phone call at two in the morning. The moment she picked up the phone and Santana asked her to come over, Brittany knew something was wrong before Santana even said it. She was in her mom's car and on the other side of town before she even hung up the phone. She ran up Santana's front yard, swung the door open and ran up the stairs, following the light of the illuminated bathroom. She didn't even stop to think about accidently waking up Andrés, Santana's little brother.

Brittany opened the door to see Santana wiping at a pretty nasty gash on her stomach. Bruises on her arms. Cuts on her legs. A large scratch running down her left cheek. Tears welled in the blonde's eyes that matched the unshed ones of the 'fearless' brunette. Brittany spent the entire night with her that night, running delicate fingertips against Santana's delicate skin, placing butterfly kisses along her jaw, shoulder, collarbone, arm, fingers, eyelids and tears.

Brittany never wanted to have to see that sight again.

"Yeah, Britt," Santana said, deep chocolate eyes meeting dancing blue, "It's just this bruise. I'm fine."

"Promise?"

Santana lifted her hand and extended her pinky. "Pinky promise."

Brittany smiled and linked their pinkies together, not letting go as they placed their joined hands atop the table.

Quinn looked at Rachel. Quinn tried to get inside her head and try to figure out what exactly the brunette was going for with asking all these questions. Was Rachel trying to fill a personal vendetta because of all the shit Quinn had put her through all the years? Was she just trying to weed out all the gay people in Lima? Could Ms. Rachel Berry actually have feelings for her?

Quinn swallowed the lump in her throat. She chose her words carefully. "I'm not entirely sure that I am completely straight."

Outwardly, Rachel barely reacted. Apart from the tiniest movement of the corners of her mouths that hinted at a contained smile, it would almost appear that Rachel was indifferent to Quinn's revelation. Little did Quinn know that there was a little fiesta going on inside of the composed figure. To Rachel, it meant that Santana was right and that she actually had a chance with the girl of her dreams.

"It's okay you know," Rachel said.

"No." Quinn placed her hand on her lap, right atop of her fresh cuts. She began scratching at them, desperate for relief. "For you, it may be okay. Your dads are gay. That's the situation where you grew up. You went to gay pride parades and sing show tunes in your house and everything you say shoots rainbows. Can you imagine what my parents would say to me?"

"Just because your parents don't agree, that doesn't mean that it's wrong. Your parents aren't always right."

"No. They're not. But the bible isn't. Homosexuality is a sin. And I'm a sinner for even having these thoughts. Every single thing I do or think goes against every single thing that I've ever been taught to believe."

"But you accept me. And Kurt. And Santana and Brittany. And my parents, right?"

"Yeah," Quinn shrugged.

"So why is it so hard for you to accept yourself?"

Quinn stopped. Why was it hard? The scenario wasn't any different. Rachel and her parents are truly wonderful people, and she has nothing against them. Kurt has been there for her in times when she felt completely alone. Brittany and Santana are two of her best friends. She could never feel any hatred against any of them. So why does she hate herself so much.

Quinn didn't even notice that she had started crying until she felt a tear fall on her hand. She couldn't bring herself to look up and meet Rachel's eyes, so she kept her gaze on the hand that continued to work the cuts on her arm as she spoke. "I don't know," she sniffled. "Because it's different. Because it's not just that I might be bi. Sometimes I feel like… I never can be good enough. Like, even when I'm trying to do the best that I can, that my parents will never completely be happy with it. I could never make head Cheerio. I was always co-captain. I got straight A's in school, but I was never at the top of my class. I was president of the celibacy club, but I got pregnant. I try to be the perfect daughter for my parents, and now I'm being exactly the person that they never wanted as a daughter."

"Wouldn't your parents just want a daughter who is happy?"

Quinn chuckled and wiped at her tears with a shaky hand. "You obviously don't know my parents. They don't care about feelings. They care about outward appearances. It doesn't matter if you're the happiest person in the world. If there are people looking at you with any negative feelings, then you're a fuck up."

It broke Rachel's heart to listen to Quinn talk like this. To see her tears. And yet, even though Rachel could see the fact that Quinn was a complete mess on the inside, a passerby would never see that. Through her emotions, she still managed to hold onto that composed mask that Santana was talking about. That worried Rachel. "Maybe that's where your parents are wrong, Quinn. What other people think of you isn't what really matters. "

"Yes it does. People say that it doesn't matter, but they just say that to make them feel good about themselves. But people need to judge you every day of your life. It's what people think of you that get you into college. That lands you a job. That leads you to your sweetheart. You need to judge, because that's how you get anywhere."

Rachel nodded. "Okay," she decided that if she couldn't get Quinn to see her way, she would try to see what Quinn sees. "And how do you think other people judge you."

Quinn was taken aback. "What do you mean?"

"You're so afraid of being judged negatively, so you try to become that epitome of perfection. So tell me. The perfect you. What is it? Who is the perfect Quinn?"

"The perfect Quinn is pretty. She knows how to be nice to people, but is more determined than she is sweet. She holds onto her moral values of her religion, but she knows that there are certain things God couldn't stop her from if it meant she could get to the top. She's driven. She's bold. She's confident. She has friends who love her, she's a great cheerleader, and she has people looking up to her. She's everything I've wanted to be since I was a little girl."

Rachel nodded. "And aren't you already all of those things? You're pretty, you're smart, you're talented, and you're kind, you're confident. Quinn, you _are_ the perfect you."

Quinn shook her head. "Perfection can't be reached so effortlessly. It takes years and years of trying to be the best you you can be."

"Perfection isn't attainable, Quinn. Ever. And the perfect you is the you you are now."

At those words, the mask cracked. The wall that Quinn had built up had finally crumbled to the ground around her. Tears spilled down her cheeks with nothing holding them back anymore, and Quinn did all in her power to stifle some of the sobs and pass them off as hiccups.

"You wanna get out of here?" Rachel asked slowly. Quinn reached into her purse, pulled out a fifty and placed it on the table before standing up to put on her coat.

"Your car," Rachel announced, "because Santana drove me here so my vehicle isn't an option. But I'm still driving. You are in no state to be behind the wheel of a car."

Rachel and Quinn didn't even get to the car before Rachel's pocket buzzed with a text.

_Where'd you guys go? Date's not over._

Rachel rolled her eyes at how demanding Santana's words could be even through text. Rachel quickly shot a text back.

_Not over. Just changing venues._

A few seconds later, she got her reply.

_That's my girl_.

**oooh! things are heating up! haha i'm excited. **

**reviews make me smile :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**So sorry it took me this long to update. I don't think i've said this before, but the whole reason i even got started with fanficiton is because a friend suggested it to me as a cure for writers block. I'm actually working on a novel that i've been writing for about a year and a half now. I couldn't seem to get over this little bump that i hit, so i started writing this FanFic, and then it hit me. and so i was going crazy writing my actual book that i couldn't quite get to this. **

**But, the content of this chapter is not going to disapoint :)**

**WARNING. There is some violence and rape at the end of this chapter. Nothing too overly graphic, but still I don't want that to upset anyone, so you have been warned.**

"So where'd they go?" Brittany asked, hovering a shrimp right above her mouth before eating it.

"They left," Santana answered. "But Rachel said their date is just 'switching venues' so they're going somewhere else."

Brittany giggled. "I bet they're going back to Qunny's house so they can fuck."

Santana groaned, but couldn't help her smile. "Ew! Brits. I seriously do _not_ need to be thinking those thoughts right now."

Brittany put her chin down and looked up at Santana through a thick veil of eyelashes. "Would you want to be thinking about it if it was you and me, driving back to your house in a hurry, stripping each other of our clothes before we even made it all the way through your front door?"

Santana smirked, raised her hand, and loudly called, "Check please!"

Rachel was lucky that she knew where Quinn lived. Quinn wasn't talking, or making any sounds other than her sobs. She just literally gave Rachel the key and sat down in the passenger seat, basically turning herself over to the brunette.

They drove across town to Quinn's rather large house. Rachel put the car in park, got out, and then crossed over to Quinn's side of the car before helping the distraught blonde out. Quinn sniffled as she put an arm around Rachel's shoulders.

"Thank you," she mumbled. Rachel put an arm around Quinn's waist in response and helped her up the cobblestone pathway.

"Your parents home?" Rachel asked.

Quinn snorted something that sounded like "highly doubt it." Rachel didn't question it. She just watched as Quinn dug into her small white tote bag and pulled out a bedazzled pink key, opening the large wooden door.

Though Rachel knew where Quinn lived, she had never actually been inside the Fabray residence. For the most part, it was everything she ever expected it to be. White marble floors, pastel colored walls, elaborate paintings, and a marble staircase. The house was that very perfection that the Fabrays has always come across as being.

"Can you grab a blanket from the hall closet?" Quinn asked. "It's right there. I'll make us some tea, if you want."

"Peppermint, please," Rachel said. "No sugar." Quinn nodded and headed towards what Rachel assumed to be the kitchen. Rachel opened the large door Quinn pointed to and took out a wonderfully soft lavender blanket and followed through the doorway Quinn had just gone through.

The kitchen was just as marvelous as the rest of the house. The walls painted a baby blue, accented by white cabinets and stainless steel appliances. It was the very perfection in the room that caused Rachel's eyes to zero in on the only flaw.

"What happened here?" Rachel asked, pointing to a rather large, slightly pink spot that marred the white tiles.

Quinn stiffened. "Dropped grape juice," she said. "This morning. I guess I couldn't get it all that clean." She picked up the two mugs of tea and headed towards the living room. Rachel followed the broken girl.

"It's probably come out if you dissolved a tablet of denture cleaner in some water and scrubbed it with that," Rachel suggested.

Quinn sat down on the couch and handed Rachel her tea. "Thanks," She smiled. "I'll try that."

The drive to Santana's house was excruciating. The two girls came to the restaurant in different cars, so they drove to Santana's separately. Brittany was singing along to the music, simply excited about the promises of what the night can bring. Santana, on the other hand, was shifting in her seat constantly. She drove dangerously and erratically, trying to make the drive to her house as fast as possible.

She crossed over the tracks and wove her way through dimly lit streets, weaving her way in and out of dark, unused roads that she knew would get her there sooner. She pulled up into her driveway and got out of the car, seeing Brittany's headlights in the distance. Brittany was pretty well-versed in how to get to Santana's house, but she was always a bit antsy when it came to driving through Lima Heights in the dark. She usually didn't like having to do that drive alone, and when she did, she never went above the speed limit.

This was not a time when Santana wanted her to be cautious.

Brittany barely had the time to put the car in park before Santana had pulled the driver's side door opened and reached down to unbuckle the blonde's seat belt for her, hastily pressing their lips together. Brittany got out of the car without ever separating their lips, and the girls became a mess of roaming hands and tongues as they made their way up Santana's front steps and into the foyer.

Quinn took a sip of her tea. "Why are you being so nice to me?" She didn't dare lift her gaze off of the mug in her hands. Rachel put her peppermint tea on the coffee table in front of them and reached for the blanket, draping it over their feet. They lay on Quinn's couch, each leaning towards one side, letting their feet meet in the middle.

Rachel chuckled. "Would you prefer I be mean to you?"

Quinn couldn't help her small smile. "No. It's just, I don't know. I've always been such a bitch to you. And now you have all of this crap you could use against me, and there is so much you could say to me right now, but you're not doing any of that."

"That would be mean."

"If the roles were switched, I would do it to you."

Quinn took another sip of her tea and Rachel watched her carefully. "I don't believe that," she finally said. "Even if the opportunity to completely ruin me was presented to you on a silver platter, I don't think you'd take it."

"You give me too much credit."

"I don't think you give yourself enough credit. You're actually really sweet."

Quinn snorted. "Sweet? Have you completely forgotten the fact that the moment I moved here, I basically made it my personal mission to make you a social outcast?"

"And mission accomplished," Rachel said with a shrug. "But the you that I never knew outside of the torture and the you that I met through the Glee club are two different Quinns. The Quinn who sits on the bleachers next to me and lets music express everything that she's been afraid of letting people see is sweet. A little broken inside, sure. And maybe she doesn't always do the right thing, but deep down, her intentions are pure and she's a good person."

Quinn isn't sure what came over her when she leaned in and gave Rachel a shaky, tear-filled kiss.

Santana had her hands woven through Brittany's hair, mouth attached to her neck, leaving the blonde gasping for air. Clothes were being stripped off desperately and thrown around in a path as they tried to make it to Santana's room.

"What about your brother?" Brittany breathed as she worked the button of Santana's jeans.

Santana quickly unhooked the back clasp of Brittany's bra and let it fall to the floor in the hallway outside her room. "Sleeping at a friend's house," she answered, and pushed Brittany through the door. Brittany just kept backing up blindly, guided by Santana, until she felt the edge of the bed hit the back of her legs and let herself down on the bed, pulling Santana on top of her.

Rachel's mind buzzed. The moment was magical. It was everything she ever wanted it to be. Even after Quinn pulled her lips away after the short kiss, Rachel could taste what was undeniably Quinn. Something like strawberries.

Quinn felt the flush in her cheeks. She felt her own embarrassment mixed with what she could only describe as a pure adrenaline rush. She had just kissed Rachel Berry. "I'm sorry," Quinn mumbled, "I shouldn't have-"

"Don't apologize," Rachel smiled. "You have nothing that you need to apologize for."

"But I kissed you, and it was random and probably a little weird."

Rachel chuckled and reached out to take Quinn's hand in her own. "Weird isn't the adjective that I was going to use."

Santana could barely keep her thoughts together, so she stopped thinking. All she could do was feel. She felt the smoothness of her legs tangling with Brittany's. She felt the toned muscles that rippled through Brittany's body with every touch of pleasure. She felt the softness of Brittany against her lips. She felt Brittany's hands and mouth and every part of her body as it brought Santana more pleasure than she could have imagined. Every time that she was with Brittany seemed to be even better than the time before.

Body's flushed with ecstasy, the two girls lay on the bed afterwards, breathing heavily and feeling the pulsating beat of each other's hearts as they lay skin on skin. Brittany on her back, and Santana with her head on the taller girl's chest as Brittany idly fingered chocolate locks of hair that veiled her milky skin.

"It was a nice thing you did for Rachel and Quinn," Brittany said, pressing a delicate kiss to the top of Santana's head.

"Yeah, well, sometimes I try."

"Sanny, you think that maybe since now Quinine and Rach are together, you and me can be together? Like, dating?"

Santana sat up and leaned against the headrest. "Britt," she sighed. "I thought we talked about this."

"No. You didn't want to talk about it. You always say that maybe it's not a good idea or that you don't know what we are, but we never talk about our feelings."

"You know I'm not good with feelings."

"But you're good with me. Doesn't that count for something?"

Santana opened her mouth to say something when a low rumbling of a group of cars approached the house. Maybe Santana will pride herself on the fact that she has damn good intuition, or maybe just growing up in Lima Heights had taught her a thing or two about what doesn't feel right. Either way, she quickly got out of the bed. "Get dressed," she hissed at Brittany, as she started digging through random clothes on her floor in search of anything. Brittany knew better than to question and opened the third drawer on Santana's dresser. It was the one that held all of the clothes Brittany just left there.

Quinn liked the feeling of her hand in Rachel's. There was something so comforting at her touch. Quinn looked up into Rachel's brown eyes and smiled. "Yeah? And what was the adjective you would have used?"

"Perfect."

Quinn felt her heart beating in her head like a pulsating echo that seemed to radiate all the way down her body, leaving her with a warm glow. "Rach, my turn to ask you. You're not very straight, are you." It came out more like an observation than a question, but Rachel seemed not to mind very much.

Rachel chuckled. "I... I don't want to use a label. I mean, I don't know what I am. I don't know if I'm gay or bi or straight. All I know is that I'm very into you. And if that makes me bisexual, then I'm okay with that."

Santana got dressed quickly, turned off the lights in her room and opened the blinds ever so slightly. There on the street in front of her house were three cars, and about 10 people piled out of them and were making their way up her lawn.

"Britt," she warned, "I want you to do what they say. Regardless of what they say or do to me, I want you to keep quiet unless spoken to directly. Don't tell them to stop or anything like that."

Brittany was quiet for a moment. "But what if they hurt you?" she mumbled. The doorbell rang and an eerie silence fell over them.

"Even if they hurt me, I need you to be strong. It's okay if they hurt me. They won't hurt me too bad. But I don't want them hurting you."

There was a loud knock on the door and a guy's voice rang out, "Open the fuck up, Lopez. I know you're home. I can see your ride."

Brittany felt chills at the sound of the strange guy's voice. The two girls made their way down the stairs, but Santana told Brittany to stay a little further back when she opened the door. Instantly, 10 guys in dark jeans and hoodies made their way into the living room without so much as being invited. Santana wordlessly waited for them all to be inside before shutting the door behind them.

A tanned boy with shaggy black hair made his way to the door and locked it. "Better be safe, chica," he said. "Wouldn't want no strangers to be comin' in." He took a hold of Santana's waist and pulled her in close to him, placing an open-mouthed kiss on her lips. Santana didn't resist. He moved his mouth a little closer to her ear and whispered, "Would you, chica?"

"Of course not," she said. Brittany could hear the faintest waver in her voice. "Who's the new guy?" Santana asked, slightly nodding her head towards a pale guy with a shaved head. Above his right ear he had a cool tattoo of a bird holding a tree branch in its mouth.

The guy let go of Santana and she stumbled just a tiny bit as he pushed her away. "That's Eyes. Eyes, this here is my little Santana. Tana, say hello."

"Hey," she said. She turned to the other guy. "You just initiate him?"

"Nah. He's not one of us. He's here because I owe him a favor."

Santana looked over at Brittany and locked eyes with frightened blue. She felt as if her entire body had gone numb.

Rachel's phone vibrated in her purse and she reached down to check it. "It's my Dad," she announced. "He wants me home."

Quinn nodded. "Okay, I'll drive you."

"No need," Rachel said. "My Dad is already on his way here to pick me up."

"He knows where I live?"

"Of course. I think my parents know everyone in this town," Rachel chuckled. "We are a very friendly family."

Quinn couldn't help the smile that pulled on the corners of her lips. "You really are."

Not a full three minutes later, Rachel heard a car horn outside. She stood up. "Well, that's my dad."

Quinn stood up and walked Rachel to the door. "Quinn," Rachel said. She fiddled with her class ring nervously. "Before I leave, could I ask for another kiss?"

Quinn laughed. "You really think I was going to let you leave without one more?" With anther sweet kiss, Rachel walked out the front door. "We should hang out again sometime soon," Quinn called after her.

Rachel turned around and smiled. "I'd like that."

"What kind of a favor?" Santana asked.

The guy opened his mouth to answer when his eyes zeroed in on Brittany as if he has just seen her for the first time. "Who's the hot blonde?" he asked.

Santana's eyes darkened. "Off limits," she growled.

The guy smiled. "You know I think you're so fucking sexy when you're pissed at me. Gotta love how protective you is over her. What's she to you? Sister?"

Santana scrunched up her eyebrows. "We really look like we're fucking sisters? The Latina and the blonde? Yeah? Real smart. No, she's a friend."

He whistled. "Must be some friend if you got as whizzed as you just was about her."

"I asked you a question. What type of favor?"

"The messy kind. Now get on your fucking knees like the good little slut you are and maybe I'll think about knocking $50 off your tab if you do like you're told."

Santana turned to look at Brittany with a silent warning not to do anything in protest as she slowly got onto her knees. Eyes came and stood in front of her. "Unzip them," he ordered.

Santana looked up as she lifted her hands. She wondered why they called him Eyes. His eyes were nothing special. They were a cold, dead grey that left Santana feeling empty. She pulled down his boxer shorts and kept her eyes on his.

He slapped her across the face. "What you fucking waiting for, cocksucker?" Brittany remembered Santana's warning and tried not to make any sounds whatsoever as she helplessly watched Santana take him into her mouth. For a short moment, he let her be in charge. She slowly warmed him up as she slid her mouth along his length.

Then, he took his hand and put it on the back of her throat. He pushed himself deep in her throat until he was buried to the hilt. Santana gagged only slightly at the unexpected thrust and felt her eyes tear up slightly, but she bounced back fast and let him have his way with her until he was done, staying in place as she swallowed everything and licked him clean.

"She's as good as you said she was, Ray," Eyes said to the other guy and he pulled his pants and boxers back up.

"I told you. She's a good little slut." Ray patted Santana on the head and headed out the door. All of the guys followed. Brittany stood silently and watched the broken girl remain on the floor, not moving. When the door shut, Brittany rushed over to Santana's side, crying, but Santana remained emotionless.

**I feel a little bad for Santana, but it's obvious that there's something behind the bitch. She has a story that we haven't heard yet, and I think it's something that leaves her with this dark, self-protecting shell of bitchiness. Am i overdoing it by going this far?**

**Reviews make me smile :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm baacckkk. I'm realizing that Wednesdays are probably the days that i'm most often going to do my writing, since it's my least busy day at work and i get bored. lol.**

**So, this chapter has a song in it. Yay! **

**I'm excited about it. Hope you love it :)**

Brittany bent down and picked the Latina up in her arms effortlessly and carried her up the stairs towards Santana's bathroom. A few months ago, Brittany and Santana pooled up some of their money and spent three days redoing the entire bathroom. The walls were now painted a rich peanut butter color, and the doors and moldings were all a warm chocolate brown. Santana said that she felt drawn to the colors because they were warm and safe. Brittany couldn't think of a better way to try to calm the girl down.

She lifted her leg to put the toilet seat down and sat Santana on top of it. Santana didn't resist. Brittany started a warm bath and poured in some rose-scented bubbles that were in the cabinet under the sink. She turned to Santana and began undressing her. Santana simply allowed herself to be treated like a doll. She did very little to help Brittany slide her arms out of the sleeves or wiggle her way out of her jeans, but Brittany managed.

She once again picked Santana's naked form up using her dance-toned arms and lightly put her in the bathtub. She stripped off her own clothes, locked the bathroom door, and slipped in behind the frail girl.

Brittany had never seen Santana so shaken. She had known Santana for long enough to have seen her at various low points, but never had she seen her so utterly broken. Brittany wrapped her arms around Santana. Santana melted into her frame and leaned against her chest, letting a few silent tears fall onto Brit's milky skin and disappear into the soapy bath water.

Rachel shut the car door and buckled her seat belt. "Hi dad," she beamed.

Hiram couldn't help but notice something different about his daughter. "So how was your time with Quinn?" he asked.

Rachel looked ahead at the darkened sky outside the glass window. "What does it feel like to be in love?" she mused.

"You and Quinn have a heart to heart about Finn?" he questioned.

"No. Quite the contrary, actually. Dad, I think I might have developed feelings for Quinn."

Hiram didn't even falter. "And how does she feel about this? Or does she not know?"

"She knows. And she likes me, too. I think. Well, she kissed me, if that means anything."

Hiram turned his head and looked at Rachel with a raised eyebrow. "And what about your boyfriend?"

Rachel sighed and fell deeper into the seat. "I don't know, Dad. I mean, there is a part of me that will always love Finn. He meant more to me than anyone else in the world, apart from you and Dad, of course. But there is just something about Quinn that I can't seem to get out of my mind. There is something about her that is hypnotizing and mesmerizing and I just…. I don't know."

Hiram nodded and thought for a moment. "Do you think that what you're feeling for Quinn is love?"

"I couldn't think of anything else that it could possibly be. When I'm with her, everything just feels so right."

"More right than it does when you're with Finn?"

"With Finn it's still right, but it's a different kind of right."

"If I may add my two cents in this-"

"Please do," Rachel interjected, turning her full attention to her father.

"I think," Hiram continued," that you love them both, but that each is a different kind of love. I think you love one of them, but you're _in_ love with the other. And those two are two very different things."

"So how do I know who it is that I'm in love with?"

"I can't tell you the answer to that. Only you could know."

Rachel took her phone out of her pocket and sent a quick text to Finn.

_We need to talk. Meet me at the Lima Bean tomorrow morning at 10?_

"Sanny," Brittany whispered. "Talk to me?"

"There's nothing to say." Brittany shuddered at the sound of her voice. It was broken and empty. It wasn't Santana anymore.

"Santana. We need to talk about this."

Santana moved so that she wasn't leaning against the blonde. The two sat in the bathtub, facing each other, knees brought up to their chests. "Fine," Santana said simply, sad chocolate eyes mixing with concerned blue. "Talk."

Brittany lowered her gaze. "Does that happen a lot?" she whispered.

"More often than it should."

"Isn't there any other way that you could get them back the money you owe them?"

"Sure. The ways probably aren't very legal, though. I can't get too involved in that. Mi hermanito. I'm all he has. It's not like my parents really give a crap about what goes on. If I do something stupid that gets me killed or arrested, I don't know what will happen to him."

"Well it's not like this is very legal either."

"But I'm not gonna be arrested for it."

"But they're hurting you."

Santana looked down at her knees. "I'm fine."

"Lies. You can sit there and keep on telling me you're fine, but I know you Sanny. I saw how scared you were when they showed up. I saw the tears in your eyes when they forced you to… do that. I saw how broken and sad and angry you were with yourself and with them when it was all over. Angry at them because they did it. Angry at yourself because you let it happen."

Santana stood up and got out of the tub, not even bothering with a towel as she walked out of the room. Brittany shook her head, pulled the plug in the bathtub and followed after her.

"Sanny," she called. "Wait."

Santana was lying in her bed, crying into the pillow. It tore at Brittany to see her that way. In Brittany's eyes, Santana was like Superman. She wasn't afraid of anything. She was strong and brave. She was always there to protect Brittany. Sometimes, Santana was so good at playing Superman that Brittany forgot that even Superman had a Clark Kent.

Brittany got into the bed behind Santana, wrapping herself protectively around Santana's shaking frame.

"How can you be so right about all of this shit," Santana sobbed. "You can't fucking solve a simply math problem, but you look into my eyes and fucking see my soul."

Brittany moved her hand to rub small, soothing circles along Santana's hip. "I don't know math very well. But I know you. I'm not good at math. I'm good at you. Math makes no sense. Sometimes you don't either, but you're easier to figure out."

Santana chuckled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "I love you, Brittany. Even when I say stupid shit, and do things wrong, or anything like that, you just need to know that I love you. I always will."

Brittany smiled and placed a kiss on Santana's naked shoulder. "I know," she whispered. "Now go to sleep, Superman."

Rachel woke up the next morning dreading her conversation with Finn. What should she tell him? That she made out with his ex-girlfriend? It was not exactly a conversation Rachel was looking forward to having. She put on her favorite blue sweater and white skirt before skipping down the stairs to where her fathers were sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and reading the paper.

"Morning sweetie," Leroy called. "Want some coffee?"

"No thanks, Dad. I have a breakfast date with Finn."

"You gonna tell him about you and that Quinn girl?"

Rachel stopped and looked at Hiram. "You told him?"

Hiram put down his coffee and looked at her. "Of course I told him. I told my gay husband that the daughter that we previously assumed was straight seems to be infatuated with another girl. Pardon me for dropping that on him last night when we got home."

"And if my opinion means anything," Leroy started, "I do think that you need to be completely honest with Finn. Regardless of what happens in your relationship, I know you, and I know that you will hate yourself if there is something that major that you kept from your boyfriend."

Rachel nodded and grabbed her purse off the sofa. "Thank you Dad. Your opinion does matter." She began to walk towards the door when Hiram called after her.

"Rach, honey?" Rachel turned and looked at her fathers. "This may be already implied, but we're going to say it anyway, but we love you and accept you whether you're gay straight or bi. It doesn't matter to us."

"What matters is that you're happy," Leroy added.

Rachel laughed and rolled her eyes. "Thank you Dad. And Dad. I love you too."

When Santana opened her eyes, she was alone in her bed. She sat up and listened for any sound of Brittany in the house, but it was silent. Santana threw on an oversized t-shirt and walked downstairs.

"Britt?" she called out. There was no answer. The smell of coffee invaded her senses and she smiled as she walked towards the kitchen. Even though Brittany hates the stuff, there on the kitchen counter stood a hot mug of coffee for Santana. As she reached a hand out to grab the mug, she noticed a note.

_Your brother called while you were still asleep._

_He needed someone to come pick him up. We'll_

_be back soon. Please have some clothes on when_

_your younger brother gets home._

_-xoxox Britz_

Santana went upstairs and put on a pair of lime green jogging shorts, hot pink sports bra and a bright yellow tank top. She threw on a pair of sneakers, dug through her purse until she found her iPod, and headed out the door.

Santana loved running. Coach Sylvester's idea of running was maniac, but Santana always managed to survive more of it than the other girls on the squad. She wasn't a huge fan of doing 50 wind sprints, but she loved the exhilarating feeling of feet hitting the pavement as the wind strikes her face.

Early morning was the best time to go for a jog. It was the only time of day that even Lima Heights was quiet. Noon was filled with kids and teens all over the street. It was loud and sometimes, a little crazy. Night time jogs were dangerous. Even for Santana. Yeah, she's friends with a lot of the right people, so in the eyes of most, she's untouchable, but there will always be those people who don't play by the rules. To some people, Santana is a perfect target. She's an attractive, small girl. She can hold her own and fights like a champ, but a strong guy could still take her.

So early morning jogs were what Santana did to get her mind off of daily life. It was her escape. She pushed her body past the brink of exhaustion, letting music and adrenaline fill her body.

Santana was done with her jog and almost all the way home before any kids even made their way outside and into the mid-October, Saturday sun.

When Santana made it home, Brittany's car was once again parked in the driveway. Santana put her hand on the doorknob, put a smile on her face and walked in.

"Hey chico!" she called to her brother. He was sitting on the couch watching TV.

"Don't you ever get sick of jogging?" he asked, only taking his eyes off the screen for a split second.

Santana laughed. "Nunca. Where's Britt?"

"Upstairs. Your room, I think."

Santana took off her sneakers and went in search of Brittany.

Rachel parked her bright yellow Volkswagen Bug outside the Lima Bean and got out. Finn's blue pickup was already there. She flattened out her skirt, took a deep breath and stepped inside. She jumped slightly when the bell rang as the door opened.

Stupid nerves.

Finn looked up at the sound of the bell and smiled at Rachel. He was already sitting at the table eating his bagel and drinking his coffee.

"Hey," Rachel said taking a seat.

"Morning," he smiled. "I got you a soy latte and a whole wheat muffin, just like you like it."

"Thanks," Rachel answered, ripping a small piece off her muffin and slowly bringing it to her lips.

Finn frowned. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Finn, we need to talk. And I don't want you getting mad at me and interrupting before I finish, because this is hard enough for me to say to you right now, and having you yelling at me will only make it even harder, and I'm already really nervous, and just.. please. Don't be mad." Rachel felt on the verge of tears.

"What?" Finn was confused. "Rach, why would I be mad at you?"

Rachel took a deep breath. "Because I kissed someone."

Finn was startled. He furrowed his eyebrows. "Who?"

Rachel looked down and whispered, "Quinn."

Finn didn't know what to say. Rachel spoke up instead. "Finn, I know. I know what you're thinking. You feel hurt and betrayed and probably a little confused." Finn wordlessly nodded. "But, I don't even really know how it all happened. I think that maybe I have some sort of feelings for Quinn. And if I do have these feelings, then Finn, I think I'm bisexual. This whole thing is something that I need to figure out right now, but I don't think you and I should be together while I do so. As much as it pains me to even think about the two of us not being together, I don't think it'd be fair to you if this relationship continued if I cannot promise you that I'm going to be 100% devoted to you. Do you… understand what I'm saying?"

Finn took a sip of his coffee. Rachel noticed that his hands were shaking and hoped that it wasn't anger. "Rach," he breathed. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I get it. I mean, not the whole you have feelings for Quinn bit, but I get that you need to figure this all out."

"So you're not mad at me?"

"A little," he admitted. "But I'm not mad because you think you're bi, or because you're breaking up with me. I'm mad because you kissed her while you and I are dating._ Were_ dating."

"I know that was wrong of me to do so, but it was in the heat of the moment. And it doesn't mean that I don't still love you."

"No," he agreed. "But it means that you don't love me enough not to do that." And with that, Finn stood up and walked out, leaving Rachel at the table alone.

Santana was hallway up the staircase when she heard a familiar but soft hum of music. She could see that her bedroom door at the end of the hallway was shut, and could only assume that that was where the sound was coming from. She smiled as she got closer and could make out the words.

_All things aside just know, _

_no matter what you do, I'll be there for you. _

_When the world starts bringing you down,_

_I'll be there to stop and lift you off the ground._

Santana stopped in front of her bedroom door and listened for a little while longer.

_Because we've got that thing people dream about_

_And see on silver screens._

_It's undeniable. You're the one for me._

_The only one for me._

When she opened the door, she gasped. All the lights were off in her bedroom, but it was illuminated with the soft glow of what had to have been a hundred small tea candles scattered throughout the room. The bed and the carpet were covered in a layer of mixed red and pink rose petals.

_They say things change with time,_

_But one thing is for sure._

_It won't be you and I. You and I._

There on the bed sat Brittany, holding a boombox like an old 90's film, playing one of Santana's favorite songs and smiling.

"Britt" Santana gasped, taking in the scene in front of her. She stepped in and felt the softness of the rose petals beneath her feet. "This is… wow."

_Go ahead and scream and cuss me out_

_Because we'll be making love before the sun goes down._

_No matter how angry or sad you can make me,_

_It wouldn't change a thing._

_Ohhhh, you're mine forever girl,_

_No matter what you do._

Santana crossed the room until she stood in front of Brittany. The two locked eyes until the song ended.

_You're mine forever girl,_

_No matter what you do._

_Ohhh… you're my forever girl,_

_And I believe in you._

_Yeah I believe in you._

When the song ended, a sort of silence filled the room and Santana found herself moved to tears. She brought her left hand up to her mouth and shook her head as she smiled. "Britt," she said.

"No," Brittany interrupted. She put the boombox down on the bed and got up so that she was standing in front of Santana. "I know that you think that what you're doing is your only option. I know that you're afraid for me, and for your little brother, and scared of what those guys will do if you don't do what they tell you to. But I'm scared for you Sanny. I care about you. You're mine forever, but that won't work if they do something where you get hurt, Sanny. I need you here with me. We're going to find something that you can do to pay them back. They're not going to have anything to hold over you anymore."

Santana smiled weakly and fell into Brittany's strong arms. "Thank you Brit-Britt," she mumbled. "I'm yours forever."

"Promise?" Brittany whispered into her hair.

"Always and forever after."

**Oh i know you love that little play on my pen name :) haha**

**so the song is Forever Girl by Forever the Sickest Kids. one of my all-time favorite songs. check it out. it's cute and simple.**

**Reviews make me smile :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Sooo... yeah. Super emotional chapter. Trigger warnings, of course. I don't want to give too much away, so i'm going to keep my mouth shut.**

**But i'm excited for your reactions.**

When Monday morning rolled by, Rachel wasn't looking forward to school. She hadn't spoken to Finn or Quinn since the last time she saw either of them, and there was a nagging feeling in the back of her mind like she did something wrong. Finn wouldn't answer any of her phone calls, and there was something about that that made her feel guilty when she wanted to talk to Quinn. So she didn't text the blonde who seemed to constantly be on her mind. Santana tried to call or text Rachel a few times, but Rachel didn't answer. She didn't know what she would say to Santana's inevitable questions.

School, however, was one place where she couldn't seem to avoid anyone. She had barely made it through the door all the way before she felt two bodies slide up next to her. In a sense, it was comforting. There was something about the two girls that Santana's body tended to be cold, and Brittany strangely warm. Rachel often internally mused that it must be something with their personalities, but she never minded being between the two.

"Ignoring me, Berry?" Santana asked.

"A little," Rachel admitted. She didn't look up at Santana, but could see the taller brunette cock her head to the side.

"Something up? I would think that you'd be thanking me for your date."

"Didn't you have fun?" Brittany questioned. "When you and Quinnie left, I totally thought you guys were going to fuck in the car."

Rachel stopped and looked up at Brittany, fighting the blush the felt rising in her face. "No such thing happened. I really would rather us not have this discussion right now."

She turned to leave, but only walked three steps forward before a cold hand wrapped itself around her forearm, pulling her back. "Quinn flip or something?" Santana asked.

Rachel sighed. "Santana, this is neither the time nor the place for this conversation."

Santana looked around. There were other people in the hallway, but no one seemed to be paying any attention to the three girls. "And why the fuck not, Berry? No one is creeping on you. Just fucking tell me. What's got you all worked up like this?"

"Is it Finn?" Brittany asked.

Rachel felt a lump quickly rise in her throat.

"Ohh," Santana sighed. "Now I get it. You had a convo with Frankenteen. Based in the fact that your face completely drained of color at the mere mention of his name, I'll take it that… you told him about your infatuation with the pretty blonde princess?"

Rachel looked down at her feet. "I met up with him to break up with him. But I told him that… that Quinn and I kissed, and he got mad at me. He said he was angry that I had kissed her while he and I were still technically together."

Brittany moved so that she was standing directly in front of Rachel and took both of the shorter girl's hands in her own. "Rachel," she began. "I know that a lot of the time the things that I say don't always make sense to a lot of people. Well, to most people. Only Sanny, Quinnie, and sometimes Puck really get it, but I'm going to say something, and I want you to try to understand. Okay?"

Rachel hesitated for a moment and nodded. "Of course," she whispered.

"Rach. I see the way you look at Quinn. I see the way you look at Finn. I know that it's possible to love two different people at the same time. And sometimes it seems like both people are right for you in different ways. Finn was there when you were sad, he was there when things got difficult, he stood by your side through so much, and he was your boyfriend. But that's not the only important stuff. Friends do that stuff. Love is about more than that. Love is about funny elephants dancing in your stomach when you see them, and it's them making you laugh even when their jokes aren't funny. It's you staying up with them on the phone until three in the morning even when you're so super tired because Coach Sylvester made you do extra wind sprints. And if Quinnie-Bear does _those_ things for you, then just forget whatever Finn said to you. If she does those things to you, then your heart loves Quinnie more than it ever loved Finn."

Rachel smiled and glanced over at Santana, who looked adoringly at the blonde as she tried to casually wipe a falling tear from her cheek.

"Did that make sense?" Brittany asked Santana. "I tried really hard, but sometimes the words just get all jumbled in my head."

"I know Brit-Brit," Santana said, taking Brittany's hand in hers and placing a kiss to her temple. "And yes. It made perfect sense. So much sense that even Berry could have followed your advice."

Rachel smiled and nodded. "Yes, Brittany. Thank you."

Santana looked past Rachel and saw a familiar face coming their way. "Come on, Britt," Santana said. "We should probably get going. Looks like someone wants to have a word with the short one." Brittany giggled and locked her pinky with Santana's before the two girls left. Rachel turned and found herself staring deep into green eyes.

"Hey," Quinn said softly, offering a shy smile.

"Hi. How was your weekend?"

Quinn pulled on the edge of her blouse a little. "Well, I had this really great date one day, but the rest of my weekend was rather uneventful because they never called me back."

Rachel smiled. "I know. I should have called or something. I just… I don't know. A lot happened this weekend for me."

"You wanna talk about it? You can walk me to my first period, if you'd like." Rachel blushed again as she watched Quinn smile. There was something in the turn of her lip and the sparkle in her eye that told stories of unspoken promises.

"I'd like that," Rachel admitted. "You have… British Literature first, correct?"

Quinn chuckled and started heading in that direction, with Rachel following close behind. "Staking me?" she asked jokingly.

"Well, if I'm correctly recalling what you previously told me at Noah's party, you don't really oppose the idea of my stalking you."

Quinn smiled and rolled her eyes. "Touché. So tell me. What wonderful events happened during Miss Rachel Berry's weekend that she found herself so preoccupied that she couldn't properly call her date back?"

"Well," Rachel sighed, "I don't quite know if I would call these events wonderful."

"Oh?" Quinn questioned. "And why not?"

"I broke up with Finn."

Quinn stopped walking for a moment and let that information sink in. "Because of-"

"Yes."

"What did you tell him?"

"That I had feelings that I needed to work out, and I did not think it was fair to him if he and I continued our relationship while I figured those feelings out. That and the fact that we kissed."

Quinn quickly snapped her attention in Rachel's directions, and Rachel could see the small wave of panic in her green expression. "And what did he say?" she asked, voice too calm to actually _be_ calm.

"He said he understood, but told me that us kissing was me cheating on him."

The two girls stopped in front of the door to Ms. Francis's British Literature classroom. "He didn't question the two of us…"

"No," Rachel assured. "I mean, he was thoroughly confused with the situation, yes. But he didn't ask the questions I was expecting him to ask me."

"Oh. Okay. Well, maybe this time, you'll actually call me back and we can have legitimate conversations rather than the two of us needing to catch up in the school hallway."

Rachel laughed. "I'll do you one better. Today after school. Want to go grab some frozen yogurt? My fathers took me to this wonderful little place last week."

"Sounds fun," Quinn answered with a smile. "You drive, I pay. Now, hurry off to class Missy. Before you're late."

Rachel laughed and turned around. "See you around."

Quinn walked through the door and straight up to Ms. Francis's desk, pulling down slightly on the edge of her shirt. The short brunette looked up at Quinn over her eyeglasses.

"Yes, Miss Fabray?" she asked.

"Ms. Francis, may I please use the restroom before class?" She put on her best smile.

Ms. Francis sighed and glanced at the clock. "Okay, if you must. But please try to hurry up. We are going to start discussing Swift and his use of satire, and I would very much prefer that you did not miss the introduction to my lesson."

"Of course. I'll hurry."

The moment Quinn stepped out of the doorway, she sighed and headed straight for the cheerios locker room.

Santana shifted in her seat. Normally, she loved this class. Her love of numbers is one of the few things that she and Brittany did not share, and Santana's AP Calculus class was like heaven for her. But she had been in such a hurry to leave the house this morning after sleeping in late, and then her little brother missed the bus and needed to be driven to school, that Santana did not have the chance to use the bathroom yet in the morning.

She raised her hand. "Ms. Dolman. I seriously need to pee," she announced. "May I be excused?"

Ms. Dolman looked up at the clock. "Santana. Class started not even a full two minutes ago. Can't this wait?"

"Not without getting messy and me being very cranky."

"Fine, Miss Lopez. You are excused."

Santana smiled and got out of her seat and practically skipped out the door. She headed straight for the Cheerios locker rooms. She didn't mind using the regular bathrooms, but she sometimes minded the people. The Cheerios locker rooms are not only much cleaner and more pimped out than the regular bathrooms, but they also give you a sense of privacy since there are only about 32 girls on the squad, and they are the only people allowed in there.

Quinn walked straight in through the double red doors and locked them, heading towards the full length mirror and placing her bag on the bench beside her. She felt this numbing buzz escalating through her body. It was a feeling of need. A sensation like she was filling up and needed some sort of escape. She desperately pushed aside the books in her bag and searched for the small, unnoticeable pocket in the lining and pulled out her lighter and a paperclip.

She flicked the lighter on, watching the glow of the flame with an eerie fascination as she let the metal grow hot under its power. She lifted up her shirt, exposing her bare stomach and pulled down the waistbands of both her skirt and underwear, exposing the tortured skin. Without even a second thought, Quinn brought the hot metal down on her flesh, gasping at the heat.

Again and again, she moved the paperclip from the flame to her skin, toes curling each time as she felt her release. A small smile graced her lips as a feeling of equilibrium returned to her and she placed the lighter and paperclip back in her bag.

She looked down at her hips and saw a row of multiple white blisters surrounded by painfully red, enflamed skin. She reached for her razor and slowly dragged the blade along the length of each blister. After the burning, she couldn't even feel the pain of the cuts any more. At this point, it was purely about her desire to see the proof of her actions in her blood.

Santana reached to open the bright red double doors that led to the locker room and was surprised to find them locked. She furrowed her eyebrows as she reached for her lanyard and combed through the various keys until she found her red and gold key with WMHS printed across the top. Having a key is one of the perks of being co-captain. She turned the key and opened the door and headed towards the bathrooms.

A slight movement caught her eye and she turned towards it. "Hey," she called, approaching the girl who obviously wasn't wearing the signature red and white of a Cheerio. "What are you doing in here?"

At the sound of the footsteps, Quinn panicked just a little bit and hurried to put her shirt down. But when she heard Santana's distinctly raspy voice, she felt her heart rise to her throat.

"Quinn?" Santana questioned, recognizing her blonde friend. "You're not on the squad anymore. You know Coach Sylvester would kill you if she found you in here instead of me. What are you doing in here?"

Quinn, ever thankful for her quick-thinking, answered, "I like it in here."

Santana chuckled and rolled her eyes. "No shit you do. Clean bathrooms. Showers. No annoying people. Complete privacy. Private gym. Warm towels. Foamy hand soap. A bowl of lollipops. It's like a fucking hotel bathroom. But still. You can't be in here."

Quinn was going to answer Santana, had it not been for San's brown eyes traveling down the length of Quinn's body and zeroing in on her right hip, where a large red stain was spreading against the white fabric of Quinn's blouse.

"Shit," she hissed. "Quinn! You're bleeding!"

Quinn looked down at her shirt and back up at Santana with worry in her eyes.

Santana isn't like Brittany. Brittany is the one who has always been good with people. She's the one who could look at a person and read them better than any book she's ever read, and not just because Brittany probably has never read a book. It's because reading people was engraved in Britt's very being. She's not book smart, but she's people smart.

Even though Santana wasn't Brittany, she could read the hundreds of words that seemed to flash across Quinn's face in that moment. Yes there was worry and panic, but not the worry and panic of a person who just was informed that they were bleeding. No. Santana recognized this as the worry and panic of a person who felt guilty and knew that they were caught.

Santana narrowed her eyes slightly and lowered her chin. "Quinn…" she asked, trying her hardest to keep her voice even. "Lift up your shirt."

Quinn opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She defensively crossed her arms in front of her body and lowered her eyes, unable to bring herself to meet Santana's knowing gaze. Santana hurried back over to the door and locked it, returning back to Quinn.

"I'm not asking you politely," Santana warned. "Either you fucking lift up your shirt or I'm going to do it for you, Fabray."

"Why?" Quinn asked with a sob. "Why do you need to see it if you already know?" Quinn sat down on the floor and leaned against one of the lockers.

Santana looked at her friend and sat herself down on the floor across from her. "Because I don't want to believe that it's true," she admitted, her voice emotionally breaking over the last word.

Quinn looked up, and her emotional green eyes locked with Santana's confused chocolate. They sat like that, eyes connected, for what felt like the longest time before Quinn sighed and stood up. Santana watched intently as Quinn removed both her skirt and shirt, and pulled down on the top of her underwear, fully exposing the skin on her hips.

Santana gasped. She could distinctly count what looked like well over 100 vertical cuts on either side of her hips, all in various stages of healing. All different lengths and depths. Some were dark scars that looked like they were from many years ago, while others still looked like they were scabbed over. None looked as terrible as the eight bloody gashes dripping down her hip and thigh, where Santana's eye traveled to show even more scabbed over cuts.

"Quinn," she breathed. Santana didn't know what to think. She stood up and walked over to the Cheerios medicine cabinet, filled with painkillers and various FirstAid supplies. Santana grabbed the FirstAid kit and sat down on one of the benches, motioning for Quinn to stand in front of her. Reluctantly, Quinn obeyed.

Years and years of experience had taught Santana about how to dress a wound. Years of getting into fights with tougher boys. Years of falling out of trees or off her bike. Years of raising a boistrious younger brother. Years of spending time with a rather accident prone Brittany. Years of being around cheerleaders and a merciless coach. Santana's expert fingers gently cleaned Quinn's cuts and bandaged each up. Her eyes never strayed from the inflicted skin.

From above, Quinn watched Santana's expression. One of the things that Quinn always hated about Santana is that she had the ability to remain completely stoic. Quinn could watch all the minor movements of Santana's face, searching for micro-expressions or any hint as to what the brunette was feeling, but Santana never gave anything up. She was like a closed book with an iron padlock.

When Santana was done, she looked up at Quinn. "Why?" she asked. "You don't need to defend it. I understand the want to punish yourself. I feel like everyone does it to some extent, though not everyone does it quite the way you do. Some people deprive themselves of a certain food that they love. Others force themselves to sit down and finish a task. My own personal poison is excessive exercise. It's forcing your muscles to go past their limit, and pushing yourself until you think you're finished. But everyone has a reason. What's yours?"

Quinn turned to Santana's locker and used the combination that she had memorized freshman year to open it and pull out a new shirt and put her skirt back on and sat down on the bench next to the attentive Latina. "Because I'm never going to be good enough. Because even when I try to do everything right, I know that it will never be enough."

"By whose standards?"

"My own. My parents'."

Santana nodded. "Ever think that maybe the standards that have been set for you are a little unrealistic?"

"I have," Quinn admitted. "But it's not that that gets to me. It's the fact I can't…. I can't seem to admit my faults to anyone."

Santana nodded again. "So you… cutting, it's the words you can never say out loud?"

Quinn sniffled and locked with brown eyes that she was surprised to find brimmed with tears. "Quinn Fabray. Listen to me. Life sucks. But you know what? Shit happens and life goes on. I know that there are times when you hate yourself. I know what that's like. I know how it feels like you are so pushed to the ground by an outside force that you can't seem to get up. You feel like you're locked behind a closed door and that there is no way to ever lift the weight that is being put on you. It's like there is this pressure building up inside you, and all you need to do is just relieve a little bit of it before you get that feeling like you're going to burst. This? This is not the way to do that."

Quinn shook her head and got up. "Santana, please don't say anything to anyone." She gathered her bag and straightened out her hair. "I really appreciate all that you said and did, but I'm not ready to have this conversation yet."

Santana stood up as Quinn turned to leave. "You might not be ready, Quinn, but the conversation needs to happen. If you think I'm just going to stand back and watch you hurt yourself like this, you are sadly mistaken.

Quinn put her hand on the door and turned to look at Santana. "Yeah? And who's going to stop you from hurting yourself?" She stepped out the door before Santana had a chance to answer.

**Bum bum bum...**

**i wanted to keep Santana's reaction as in-charactor as i could, which was really interesting. As fun as she is to write, she is so complex that sometimes, writing her thoughts/dialoge is like... brain-befuddling. And don't even get me started on Brittany, who, on the show, it seems like her intelect levels fluctuate so much it confused me.**

**Anyway, let me know what you think!**

**Reviews make me smile :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**It had been a while. I do appologize. This story is going to be coming to a close soon. I'm thinking maybe, four more chapters? That should give me enough time to work everything out. Well, here comes the next chunk.**

**Enjoy :)**

Quinn walked back into her BritLit class, where Ms. Francis was standing in front of the white board, eyeing her down. Quinn realized she must have been gone for a full ten minutes, and she mouthed 'sorry' as Ms. Francis continued her lesson.

Quinn's hand went to work writing down the information on Jonathan Swift and his satirical ways and Gulliver's Travels, but her mind was elsewhere. Santana had seen something Quinn had never let anyone see before. It wasn't like Quinn was planning on Santana walking in at that time, and Quinn realized that it was mainly her fault for thinking that no one was going to enter the locker room. And even though Santana is a very good friend of hers, she was worried about what Santana would do with her newly acquired information.

Santana strutted through the door of her calculus classroom, and Ms. Dolman stopped writing an equation on the whiteboard, leaving it for the students to attempt to solve. "Santana," she chided. "If you continue to leave my classroom for such extended periods of time, your bathroom privileges will be revoked. This is not an easy class, and any lost time will result in you falling behind."

Santana shifted her gaze to just to the left of Ms. Dolman's head, where the equation was written. The numbers and symbols shifted in her head like an animation, easily manipulated by her eyes until they began to make sense. "The answers are 24 and -38," Santana said simply, and sat down, taking out a notebook.

Ms. Dolman furrowed her eyebrows and turned to the answers in her book. "That's correct," she said, surprised.

"I know," Santana mumbled. Ms. Dolman watched as Santana flipped through the notebook, whose cover clearly stated 'Math Class', yet did not have a single number in it. Each page was filled with doodles.

Santana internally chuckled as the shorter, old woman went to work explaining to the other students in the class how Santana came to her answer. In any other situation, Santana would be sitting back, leaning against her uncomfortable plastic chair, arms crossed in front of her chest. She would be sitting there and wondering how these 'peers' in the room with her could possibly be amongst the most intelligent in her grade level when Santana saw herself as being obviously superior. She would eventually get fed up with Ms. Dolman's byzantine explanations of the simplest of concepts and how the rest of the class was unable to follow, and she would take out her notebook and sketch.

She wasn't the artist Brittany was, but each of her notebooks was filled with intricate doodles of flowers, famously historic buildings, random faces of people she may or may not know, and adorable animals. Today, her hand went to work sketching the delicate jawline, gentle nose, and beautifully soft eyes of a blonde she couldn't stop thinking of.

Quinn was right. Santana trying to stop Quinn from hurting herself would just be hypocritical. Quinn couldn't even begin to understand the details of Santana's situation, nor did Santana wish to ever admit them to the judgmental girl. Santana tried over and over again to convince herself that the situations were completely different, but the more she thought about it, the more painful correlations Santana could find. Quinn was deliberately hurting herself, and Santana was letting herself get hurt. Was there any difference? Either way, neither cared to stop the injury. While Santana's was at the hands of someone else, doesn't her refusal to stand up to the hand that hurts her almost make the injuries self-inflicted? Santana couldn't help but wonder if that meant that she hated her sexuality as much as Quinn did. That maybe, the part of her brain that fought for self-preservation at his hand subconsciously believed that Santana deserved the abuse that was being handed to her.

Quinn walked from class to class, only wearing a smile when people looked her way or spoke to her. Quinn was always very good at that. She was a Fabray. Fabrays were strong. They were stoic. They could put on a mask and pretend like everything was all fine and dandy when their entire worlds were being flipped upside down.

The fact that no one seemed to notice when something was bothering her was both a blessing and a curse.

When the final bell rang, Quinn made her way to Glee. She spent half the time tuning out the sound of Rachel's voice, yet smiling at her when she caught her eye. The rest of the time was spent avoiding every opportunity to talk to, or even get near Santana and her knowing glances. They made Quinn nervous. They made her feel naked. It made her feel like everyone knew Quinn Fabray's dirty little secret, and the world was judging her.

When Mr. Schue announced that they were done for the day, Quinn was relieved. From the corner of her eye, she saw Santana grabbing her back pack, telling Brittany to hold on a sec, and her making her way over to Quinn. But, before she made it half way across the choir room, Rachel slid up beside Quinn and snaked her arm through hers.

"Ready for FroYo?" Rachel asked.

Quinn smiled and looked slightly past her to where Santana was standing and watching. She shook her head and turned to Brittany, and the two of them left to go to Cheerios practice.

"More ready than I'll ever be," Quinn said with a chuckle. "This just might be the highlight of my day."

Rachel looked up at Quinn, beaming. "Mine too."

Brittany was sweating, and she loved it. Coach Sylvester was working the girls to the bone. The gymnasium was literally filled with blood sweat and tears. Their regionals was in two weeks and Sue wanted to pound this dance routine into them. She had them do it over and over again. So much so that any normal person would be begging to stop. But these girls knew better.

You never complain to your coach if your coach is Coach Sylvester.

"Sloppy work!" Sue yelled through her megaphone. "You girls disgust me. You call yourselves cheerleaders? Homeless men who have never done a one handed double back handspring would be able to do that routine better than you. Go take a drink and get out of my face for five minutes as I try to wash the taste of failure out of my mouth!"

The girls made their way over to the bench where they kept their bags. Santana grunted as she whipped sweaty hair to the side of her face. She lifted an arm up and rubbed the back of her neck. She was about to say something to Brittany when she turned and saw that the blonde had her water bottle in her hand, eyes closed, and was going through the routine, quietly humming the music. Santana leaned against the bleachers and smiled until Brittany stopped and looked at her.

"You're weird," Santana chuckled.

Brittany furrowed her eyebrows and looked at her as she took a small sip from her water bottle. "Yes," she said simply.

Both girls stared at each other for a moment before cracking up.

"Aren't you exhausted?" Santana asked.

"A little," Brittany admitted. "But I like it. It's like when you run. Your legs hurt like a bitch, but you keep running because you like it."

Santana sighed and sat down, feeling the coolness of the gym floor beneath her legs. "Why do I do that to myself, Brit? Why do I keep on running if it hurts?"

Brittany was confused. "Sanny," she asked. "Where is this coming from?"

"Something is wrong with Quinn," Santana whispered.

Brittany sat down and scootched closer to Santana so that no one could hear their conversations. "Is it the darkness?" Brittany asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I was talking to Quinn, and she told me about the darkness, and how it scares her but she can't run away from it. And she knows that she shouldn't be playing in the dark, but there's something about it that keeps calling her name and begging her to come back. She said that the darkness makes her feel like she needs it to survive."

Instantly, Santana knew what the darkness was. "Do you think the darkness is hurting her?" she asked.

"Maybe," Brittany answered thoughtfully. "But she's scared of it either way. When I mention the darkness, her eyes get sad and she looks like she just needs a hug."

Santana was going to answer when Sue's bellowing voice echoed through the gym, ordering the girls back on their feet and ready to rehearse the routine again and again.

Quinn walked into the frozen yogurt place and instantly felt giddy inside. The entire side wall was covered in a row of those nozzles that soft-serve ice cream comes out of, but in a variety of flavors. Everything from Vanilla, to cheesecake, to Nutella. She and Rachel giggled as they put various flavors into their cups. Then, the far wall was filled with a buffet-style table covered in toppings. Quinn poured more hot fudge on her raspberry swirl FroYo than she should have and dusted it with a thick layer of rainbow sprinkles.

"This is amazing," she said to Rachel between spoonfuls. "Definitely my new favorite place to go grab a snack."

"I'm glad you're enjoying your frozen yogurt," Rachel said. "So how was your day?"

Quinn reached down and tugged at the edge of her blouse. "Pretty boring. Yours?"

"Well, I spent the entire day avoiding Finn, if that's anything. I never realized how often I see him in the hallway until I'm trying my hardest _not_ to see him."

"Understandable," Quinn chuckled. "He still angry?"

"I'm not sure. I don't doubt it. Most people don't take too kindly to being cheated on."

Quinn felt a tiny pang of guilt. First, she cheated on Finn with his best friend, and got pregnant. Then she cheated on Sam _with_ Finn. And now she is the reason that Rachel cheated on Finn. She didn't blame him for a moment if he completely hated her.

"So," Quinn started, shoveling more ice cream into her mouth. "Have you told your parents about us?"

"Oh!" Rachel exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. "That reminds me. Uh, yes. I told my fathers. I never exactly had any reason to believe that they would have any difficulties accepting my sexuality considering the circumstances. But actually, my dad emailed me fourth period. See, my fathers and I drive to Cleveland every year for the pride parade there. The parade is coming up in two weeks. I was going to ask Brittany and Santana, and Kurt and Blaine, and hopefully, you, if you would like to come with my fathers and i."

"A pride parade?" Quinn whispered, subconsciously looking around to see if anyone was listening. "Like, out in public? Is there a lot of people there?"

"Thousands," Rachel confirmed. "It's fun. Everyone is all dressed up and laughing. There are performances and refreshments. It's quite an experience. Would you be interested in coming along? It would mean a lot to me."

Quinn swallowed the last bit of her ice cream and put the cup down on the table. "I don't know, Rach," she admitted. "I mean, it seems like such a bold move. Like, the moment that I step out into the streets at a pride parade, it's like I'm putting this giant rainbow sticker on my forehead."

"Straight people go to these parades too," Rachel defended. "Besides. There are thousands of people. You will be just one person. They aren't going to make a big deal that you're there. No one will even recognize you. It would just be you, me, Britt and San, Kurt and Blaine, and my fathers."

Quinn pursed her lips. "I have to think about it," she sighed. "I hope you understand."

Rachel nodded solemnly. "Yeah," said. "I understand."

Rachel's phone rang. She picked up, "Hi daddy. Yes, I remember. I'll see you soon."

When she hung up, she got out of her seat and put her jacket back on. "My father called. I have a dentist appointment. It seems I need to go. I'll drive you to your house."

"No," Quinn said, putting on her own jacket. "It's not a far walk. Now that I'm off the Cheerios, I gotta get some exercise somehow."

"You sure?" Rachel asked.

"Yeah, I'm positive. I'll see you tomorrow."

Rachel stood up on her toes and gave Quinn a quick kiss on the cheek before walking out the door. Quinn glanced at her phone. The time read 4:30. She pressed speed dial number 3 and waited.

Santana was putting on her coat and heading out to her car as her phone rang. She almost dropped her red and white cheer-bag as she searched for her phone.

"Hello?" she answered, fumbling for her keys as she approached the red car.

"Santana?" Quinn asked. "Cheer is over, right?"

"Just got out," Santana answered, getting in the car and turning the key in the ignition. "What's up?"

"Can you come pick me up?" Quinn took a deep sigh as she tried to steady her breathing. "We need to talk."

Santana nodded even though no one could see her. "Yeah, Quinn. Yeah, we do. Pick you up at your house?"

"No. Actually, I'm almost on the corner of Applewood and Lincoln. Wanna pick me up at the Public Library?"

Santana chuckled as she made an illegal U-turn to go to opposite way, in the direction of the library. "Catching up on your reading, Juno?"

"No, just on my way back from a date with Rachel," Quinn answered, ignoring Santana's nickname. "No being on the phone and driving," Quinn said, and shut her phone. She leaned against the lamp post outside the library and waited not even a full five minutes before Santana's car came speeding down the road past a stop sign and screeching to a halt in front of the building.

Santana leaned across the center console and opened the passenger door from the inside. "Get in," she called. Quinn flung her bag in the back and sat down beside Santana, putting on her seatbelt and leaning far into the seat as Santana quickly lifted her foot from the brake pedal and doubled the speed limit.

"Remind me again why you're such a reckless driver?" Quinn asked calmly, closing her eyes as Santana sped through a four-way intersection.

"Because my primo is the chief of police the next town over, and I have a PBA card, so I can." She smiled as she quickly took a dangerously sharp corner. "Besides, my way is more fun."

Quinn looked out the window and frowned. "Where are we going?" She asked. "You're heading towards West Lima."

Santana looked over at Quinn and shrugged. "We're going to the park."

"The park?" Quinn laughed. "Why? You want to go play on the swings?"

"Hey," Santana defended. "I like the swings. And I know you do too, so don't even try to deny it. But no. We're going to the park because you wanted to talk. So we're going to talk… at the park."

"Okayy…" Quinn said, letting her voice trail off as Santana's hand reached towards the volume control, drowning out anything else either girl could say with Santana's favorite Amy Winehouse CD. It wasn't until they pulled into the park and Santana turned off the car that either girl said something.

Brittany stood in front of the mirror at the dance studio and took a deep breath. She had roughly five minutes before her next class started, and this was going to be the only time she got today to be in the room by herself. Brittany had been coming to the same dance studio since she was seven years old. When she turned 16, she made a deal with the owner that she would teach beginning ballet, hiphop and jazz classes in return for her having free lessons and use of the studio afterhours.

Brittany heard the eight-count in her head and moved her feet, shutting her eyes and giving her body away to the rhythm. Her phone rang and she cursed, something that Brittany rarely does.

She dug through her cheer bag, which doubles as the bag filled with her various dance shoes, and found her phone, surprised to see Rachel's face flashing on the screen.

"Hey, Rach," she answered. "You with Quinnie Bear?"

She heard Rachel laugh on the other end of the line. "Hello, Brittany. No, I'm not with Quinn. Actually, I'm calling to ask you a question. A favor, if I may."

"Yeah…?"

"Well, every year my fathers and I go down to the gay pride parade in Cleveland, and I was wondering if you and Santana would like to come? I invited Quinn, and I'm about to call Kurt and Blaine."

"I'd like that," Brittany said with a smile, changing into her hip-hop sneakers as the first few eight year-olds began to file into the room and take their places against the mirrored wall as they waited for class to start.

"Well, you see," Rachel began, "It would mean a lot to me if you and Santana would come, and I'm sure it would mean a lot to Quinn as well. But, I was hoping maybe you would be the one to tell Santana of my invitation. I understand that her going to a pride parade may be a sensitive topic, but I feel as if you asking her would be slightly more convincing than if I were to ask her."

Brittany did a really fast headcount and saw that all 12 of her students were in the room and waiting. "Yeah, Rach," she said quickly, trying to get off the phone. "I'll talk to Sanny."

"Fantastic!" Rachel beamed. "I will email you all the details and-"

"Yeah," Brittany interrupted. "I'll talk to you later. Gotta go." She hung up her phone before Rachel could reply.

"So," Quinn started as Santana made her way towards the swing set. "Why did you bring me to the park?"

Santana sat down and furrowed her eyebrows. "What is it with you and parks? I like the outdoors. That so hard to understand? Besides, it gives us a bit more privacy, which I figured you'd appreciate since we're here to talk about your dirty little secret."

"Santana-"

"What?" Santana snapped. "That is why we're here, right? What you wanted to talk about? Because if it's not, then that's what I'm going to make this about."

Quinn waited for a short moment before sitting down on the swing next to her. "Is it wrong of me to do this if it is what makes me feel good? I'm not suicidal. I'm not going to end up killing myself. That's not why I do it. My cuts are shallow. It's just enough to bleed, not do serious damage. If I'm not going to hurt myself, is it that wrong?"

Santana looked ahead and gently swung back and forth, pushing herself with her feet. "I don't know, Quinn. It's not normal. It's not like you've taken the healthy road."

"I know that. But, sometimes it's not a road that I pick. Sometimes when I get emotional like that, it's like I just start cutting, and it's out of my control, and my mind doesn't fully register what I'm doing to myself until after it's done."

"You want my honest opinion?" Santana asked. Quinn nodded and looked at her. "I think you need help, Quinn. I'm not saying it to be a bitch. I'm not saying that you're crazy insane and need to be heavily medicated. I'm saying it as a friend, and because I care. And I care if you do something to hurt yourself. And I know that you say you're not suicidal, but what if one day you accidently cut too deep? Or what if you get blood poisoning or an infection? Then what? There are too many variables for me to tell you that what you're doing is harmless."

Quinn fought the pressure of tears behind her eyes. "I know that something can go wrong. But there is a chance that something will go wrong with everything you do. You could get hit by a car on the way to school. You could have a heart attack. You can get cancer. There are no promises. It's not like me not cutting anymore is writing my fate in stone and saying that because I stop, everything will be okay."

"Yeah, but at the same time it's you not sitting there and basically writing your own faith. Maybe if you talk to Ms. Pillsbury, she can help with something, or just be someone to talk to."

"Or Rachel," Quinn suggested. "I… I kinda want to talk to Rachel about it. I thought that talking about this was just going to be painful, but you're not treating me like a leper like I thought you were going to."

"Maybe because I understand."

Quinn nodded slowly and paused for a moment before whispering, "Have you ever…?"

"I thought about it," Santana admitted. "I thought it would be easy. I was willing to do anything to stop the emotional pain. For a long while, I hated myself. I wasn't willing to admit who I was, and I hated that that was my one point of weakness. And then when I started loving myself again, my Abuela told me she hated me. And so I started drinking more and using more, and I got most of my stuff from my amigos in Lima Heights. And that started eating at me too, thinking that I couldn't even handle my own shit when I was sober. And then they started making me pay them in crazy ways since I didn't have the money, and that just made me hate the fact that I was powerless against them. All of that emotional pain wanted to manifest into some sort of physical pain, as maybe an escape, but I couldn't cut myself. Even when I thought about it, and thought that it was the way for me to deal, there was something nagging in the back of my mind that told me that I was going to hate myself even more if I did. You know what that thought was?"

Santana met Quinn's eyes as the blonde shook her head no. In that short moment, deep brown eyes locked with emotional blue, and the two truly understood each other.

"Brittany," Santana said. "It was the thought of Brittany that saved me. It is what made me try to stop using as much. It's what made me resist the urge to cut. Instead, I found a way to fulfil that physical want to feel pain, without so much of the consequence. I'll jog and work out until the point that my body can't seem to go any further. From the outside, it's not even dangerous. People see it as the cheerleader who is obsessed with the way she looks. I'm okay with that thought. It's better than being seen as the cheerleader whose enter life is a complete wreck and the only way she could possibly cope with her self-hatred is by cutting herself and making the outside match the inside."

"Is that how you see me?" Quinn asked, finally letting a loose tear slide down her cheek. "You see me as a complete wreck?"

"No," Santana said. "That's not you. That's my sob story. You're life sucks in different ways. I feel like a fuck up, when you just feel alone and like no one cares about you. You barely see your parents, you had to give away your child, and you are starting to come to terms with your sexuality. You don't hate yourself; you're lost. There's a difference."

Quinn stood up and wrapped her arms around the brunette. "Thank you," she said, enveloping Santana in a hug. For a short moment, Santana tensed at the sudden contact before comfortably melting into the embrace.

"I may act like a total bitch half the time, Q, but it doesn't mean that I don't care about you. You wanna talk, find me. Call me at two in the morning. As long as you bring me coffee, I don't care if I need to come find you in my pajamas. If you want to go talk to someone else, and go get help, and you think that you need a friend standing by your side and holding your hand, let me be that person, okay?"

Quinn smiled and extended her hand to Santana, and the two girls walked back towards San's car.

**I love a Quintana friendship, don't you? **

**Reviews make me smile :)**


	11. Chapter 11

Santana walked into the school library to look for a book she could use as a reference for her AP Biology paper, and was surprised to see Brittany sitting on the floor between two large book shelves.

"Britt?" she asked, making her way towards the blonde. Brittany looked up and smiled. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in Environmental Science?"

"Yeah," Brittany answered, "But I left to go to the bathroom. I got lost. And I somehow ended up here. And when I started looking around, I found some pretty cool stuff. Look," Brittany exclaimed, holding out her book to Santana. "I found Waldo!"

Santana chuckled and sat down beside Brittany. "Bet I'll find him before you on the next page," Santana challenged.

Brittany took hold of the page in her fingers and counted down. "Three, two, find Waldo!" and flipped the page. Both girls scanned the adjoining pages in search of the little man in the red and white striped shirt. Not a full three minutes passed by before Brittany pointed her finger at the page. "Found him!" she giggled.

Santana sighed and leaned back against the bookshelf. "You win," she said with defeat. "You always do."

"That's because I'm the smart one," Brittany said matter-of-factly. Santana smiled and rolled her eyes.

"Oh," Brittany exclaimed, shutting the book and turning to look at Santana. "Rachel called me yesterday. She wanted to know if we wanted to go somewhere with her, Quinn, Kurt and Blaine, and Rachel's dads."

"Go where?" Santana questioned.

"The pride parade in Cleveland next weekend."

Santana furrowed her eyebrows. "Why didn't the midget just ask me herself?"

"She said that you might not want to go to a pride parade, and that maybe I could talk you into it."

Santana sighed and ran a nervous hand through her hair. "What did everyone else say?"

"Kurt came up to earlier and said that he and Blaine are excited and want to go. Quinnie hasn't said anything, but I haven't talked to her much. You think she wants to go?"

"Honestly?" Santana chuckled. "No. I don't think she does."

"Well, maybe if you go, Quinnie will go."

Santana groaned. "Why me?"

"Because you and Quinnie are the only two who won't come out about being dolphin."

Santana looked at Brittany. For a second, she thought she registered sadness in Brittany's expression. "Are you angry that I won't come out in school?" Santana finally asked. Her words came out in a big, breathless rush, finally stating the words that had been on her mind for the longest time. "I know you want me to," she continued. "I know that you want to tell people that we're dating."

Brittany frowned as she thought for a moment before answering. Santana could almost see Brit's mind working as she searched for the right words to say. "Well, aren't we dating, Sanny? I mean, we go on dates. And we kiss. And we have sex. And I love you, and you tell me that you love me too. So aren't we basically dating?"

"Yeah…"

"So why can't we just say that we're dating?" Brittany asked with a sigh, her voice falling to a sad whisper, as if speaking any faster would physically hurt her. "Like, officially dating. Even Rachel and Quinnie say that they're dating. They aren't out yet, but at least they can admit that they're more than just friends, if someone asked them. Why can't you and I have what Quinn and Rachel have? Why can't you just get over your fear of what other people think for one little second and just do what your heart wants you to? Why can't you just grow a pair and go to this stupid pride parade with me?"

Brittany didn't even notice when she started crying. There was so much emotion in the small speech she just gave Santana that she didn't focus on that. She just focused on the words that kept spilling from her mouth. Brittany wasn't one to yell. She wasn't the type of person who would just say anything and not care what people thought. But she had been holding so much back when it came to her feelings for Santana and what a relationship between the two of them means that when she let just a little bit loose, it all came tumbling out.

Santana was a little shocked at Brittany's outburst, but she wasn't mad. "I'm going to that parade," Santana said decisively. "I'm scared. And I don't know if I'm ready for such a ballsy move like that, but I' going. And do you know why I'm going?"

Brittany wiped at her tears and shook her head no.

"Because I love you," Santana concluded, leaning over to kiss Brittany's tear-stained cheeks. "And love makes you do some crazy stupid shit. And maybe, as long as you're holding my hand, it'll be okay. You promise you'll hold my hand?"

Brittany looked up at Santana through thick lashes. "I'll never let go."

Rachel patiently waited for glee club to be over and bounced after Quinn as she headed out the door. "Hello Sunshine," Rachel beamed.

Quinn turned her head towards Rachel and mustered a smile. Ever since her little talk with Santana, Quinn's mind has been elsewhere. Rachel could sense something different about Quinn's demeanor. She could sense that there was something off about Quinn's smile. It didn't quite reach her beautifully green eyes.

Rachel thought back to something Santana had told her. It felt like so long ago. It was back when the idea of Rachel and Quinn being together seemed like nothing more than an unattainable dream. Santana told her that Quinn was complicated, and that even though on the outside she seemed all put together and calm, inside, she was broken beyond repair.

Rachel wanted to be there for Quinn. She wanted to be that rock for Quinn. She wanted Quinn to trust her indefinitely and let her in to see that broken side of her that had never before been exposed. But even though Rachel wanted all these things, there was fear in the back of her mind. Fear that right now, this was only a small crack in Quinn's stoic shell, and that prying into it will cause it to crumble into a million pieces on the floor. It was the fear that too much pressure will break Quinn like a delicate butterfly's wing.

Beautiful, magical, and captivating, and yet still sensitive, soft, and fragile.

In Rachel's eyes Quinn was just like a butterfly.

"Hey Rach," Quinn smiled, heading in the direction of her locker. "I left my history book. Want to go for a walk?"

Rachel looped her arm through Quinn's in response, and the two of them headed in the direction of the senior hallway.

"So," Rachel asked, "Have you put any thought into whether you're up to going to Cleveland?"

Quinn sighed as she approached her locker and began to spin the dial. 45-23-19. "I don't know, Rach. I mean, being out there, with all of those people… To me it just seems so… so real. I'm not like you. I didn't grow up in a house with two gay fathers. My parents never told me that they'll love me indefinitely, regardless of what I chose to do with my life. It took me so long to even accept the fact that I'm not straight. Even longer to admit it to my closest friends. Going to this parade seems like such a giant, very permanent step."

She closed her locker and leaned against it, comforting chills running down her back as the bare skin of her shoulders touched the ice cold metal.

"Well," Rachel said, biting her lower lip in thought, "I get that. And I know that it's your choice. But we all support you. You need to know that. And I, my fathers, Kurt and Blaine, Santana and Brittany, we all hope that maybe you'll want to come with us. It'll be fun. I promise."

Quinn smiled. "Santana said she was going? How'd you make that one happen?"

Rachel chuckled. "Apparently, Brittany can be very convincing. I just asked her to talk Santana into it. I don't know how she did it, but regardless, Santana approached me after lunch and said that she was going. "

Quinn knew that Santana understood the fear she had. She knew that Santana came from an equally as religious family, and that for her, coming out was just as big of an emotional step. She knew that Santana was afraid of what people were going to say about her. The Latina always put on a good show. There was very little that Santana was afraid of. She drove like a crazy maniac, wouldn't think twice about climbing a dangerously high tree, would jump off a cliff into a lake, would get into a fight with a man twice her size, hangs out with a sketchy crowd, has a small handgun in the top drawer of her bedside table, and never backs down from a dare.

But Santana was not completely fearless. Santana cared about what other people thought about her just as much as a reputation means to Quinn. It was the world. She couldn't imagine the things people would say if word got out. But Quinn knew exactly why Santana was ready to conquer her biggest fear. It was because of Brittany. Even though Quinn knew that the idea of the parade scared Santana, she would do anything for Brittany, and love conquers fear.

"Okay," Quinn said with a shaky sigh. "I will come with you to the parade." Quinn smiled as she watched bliss sparkle in Rachel's eyes. "If I back down from it or try to talk you out of my going, I give you permission to force me to go against my will. Understood?"

Rachel nodded a dizziating yes, smiling crazily. "You are going to have so much fun, Quinn. I promise. You won't regret it." With a kiss to Quinn's cheek, Rachel happily skipped down the hallway and out to the parking lot.

She wasn't expecting to find Finn leaning against the hood of her car, arms crossed in front of his chest, waiting for her. She stopped in her tracks for a moment and then slowly approached him. She looked at his face and realized just how long it has been since the two of them last spoke. Though the two of them had been so close, there was something about this interaction that felt almost foreign to Rachel.

"Hi," she said, walking up to him. Rachel always thought it was kind of funny how Finn had to actually tilt his head downward to meet her eyes.

"We need to talk," he said. His lips were in a thin, emotionless line.

Rachel nodded. "I guess we do."

Finn opened his mouth to say something, but it seemed like no sound came out. He fumbled over his words once or twice before finally deciding on what exactly to say. "Are you happy?" he asked. "Are you happier with Quinn than you were with me?"

Rachel looked down towards the ground for a moment. "Finn," she sighed, "You made me happier than I thought I ever could be. Ever since freshman year, you were that unattainable figure in my life. When you and I started dating, I was elated. I couldn't believe that you and I were together. I learned so much about you, and you taught me so much about myself. You taught me that there are more important things than fame in life. You taught me that friends, family, love and happiness are amongst the most important things I could ever have. Of course you made me happy. And I'm still happy. I'm happy because of what you taught me. The things I got out of our relationship I still carry with me, and will always carry in my heart."

"But you're happy being in a relationship with a girl? I mean, you know I don't care either way. I'm all for gays and all. I mean, Kurt is more like a brother to me than I ever thought he was going to be, but still. That's different. This is a whole new adjustment for me. Kurt was always gay in my eyes. But you…. I loved you, Rach. I still do. I just want you to make sure that you're making the right decision. It's not too late. We can go back to where we were."

Rachel shook her head. "Even if we did, it would never be the same. Finn, I do love you. I care about you so much. You were such an important person in my life, and you still are. But I can't deny the fact that I have feelings for Quinn."

Finn nodded and looked off to the side, no longer able to hold eye contact. "So are the two of you like, together now?"

Rachel smiled weakly. "Yes. We are. And I'm happy. I promise."

Finn nodded and stood up from where he was leaning against the hood. "As long as you're happy," he muttered, and walked away.

Santana felt exhausted. Her day was 7 hours of school, an hour and a half of Cheerios practice, and four and a half hours at work as a barista at a small coffee shop two towns over. It was nine pm and her night was far from over. On top of the four hours of homework that was waiting for her in her bedroom, she had something that she needed to do.

On her way home, she made a pit stop at the back and withdrew $300 cash. It was only a fraction of the money Santana needed, but being that this was about two weeks' pay for her, it was all that she could afford to use at once. She drove home and changed into jeans, a deep red t-shirt and a fitted black jacket. She walked over to the bedside table and took her handgun and gently tucked it into the waistband of her jeans. She made sure to check in the mirror to see if there was a visible bulge. There wasn't.

Santana walked into the kitchen and dug through the junk drawer until she found a sticky note and pen and scribbled out a note to her brother, knowing that he was going to be coming home soon.

_Had to run some errands. I'll be back in an hour or so. There's pizza in the fridge. Warm it up in the microwave and I'll be home before you know it._

_-Santi_

Santana pulled her jacket tighter around herself as she stepped outside into the chilly night. Santana got into her car and drove four blocks, fighting the nervous butterflies in her stomach.

Nerves. Not fear.

Her eyes scanned the dark roads for movement, searching in the faint light given off by flickering street lights.

Santana pulled up in front of a rundown house on the far side of Lima Heights and turned off the engine. She gave herself a short moment to take a shaky breath before opening the car door and making sure to lock it. She headed up towards the house and opened the door, not bothering with knocking.

Almost instantly she was met with about a dozen pairs of eyes that turned her way, but her eyes locked with Ray's.

"Well lookie here," he said with a sickening smile. "Es la chica bonita. You miss me chica?"

Santana walked over to him and pulled the bundle of money and tossed it on his lap. He took the rubber band off and quickly counted it and tucked it into his inside jacket pocket.

"Very sweet gesture," he said, "but what's with the cash? It's not my birthday." A couple of guys sitting near him chuckled. Santana felt her heart beating in her chest.

Nerves. Not fear.

"That's 300 less that I owe you."

Ray smiled and nodded. "Yes. $300 down and about a thousand more to go, right Lopez? He stood up from his chair. Santana involuntarily took two steps back.

"You know what, Lopez?" Ray asked, pushing some of his shaggy hair out of his face, revealing his angry eyes. "You're one tough bitch. It's one of the things I most love about you. You don't back down. You don't give up without a fight. And you sure as fuck don't let people push you around. But there's been one teensy thing about you that's been eating at me. A point of weakness for you that I wasn't ever expecting to see. You know what I'm talking about chica?"

Ray reached out and roughly cupped Santana's chin. She shook her head no and continued to stare deep into his eyes, refusing to let him see her falter.

He traced her jaw line, leaving uncomfortable chills wherever his skin touched. "I'm talking about the blonde girl," he said. Santana felt a hollowness in her stomach and a lump in her throat, but was determined to remain emotionless. "Never seen you care for someone like that before. Known you for years Lopez. Only person I ever seen you care two shits about was your hermanito. And now there's this blonde chick I never seen before, and you be willing to stand up and do everything to protect her?" He clicked his tongue disapprovingly and shook his head. "Something don't add up. So tell me, chica. Who she to you?"

"A friend," Santana said, putting all of her energy into keeping her voice steady.

Nerves. Not fear.

Ray smiled and shook his head. "I don't think so. She be more than that. Way more. I know you, Tana. I know people like you. I know that in your mind, friends are disposable. But she's not, is she. There's something about her. She your girl or something?" he joked.

Santana continued to stare into his eyes defiantly as his hand wandered from her jaw down to her neck where his fingers danced along her collarbone.

Ray wolf-whistled. "Well well," he said with a smirk. "She _is_ your girl. You be a dyke or something?"

Santana said nothing. Ray lifted his hand and slapped her across the right cheek. Hard. Hard enough that Santana could taste coppery liquid in her mouth and tears beginning to form in her right eye. Santana didn't falter. She didn't step back. She didn't yelp or cry out or make any sound at all. She stood there and took it.

Ray reached his hand out and grabbed onto her waist and sharply pulled her in towards him. "I believe I asked you a question," he said, his hot breath hitting her cheek.

"She's my girlfriend," Santana mumbled. "I'm gay."

Ray smiled and pushed her back. Santana stumbled for a moment and then caught her footing. "You suck dick pretty damn well for a dyke," he said. "Your girl a dyke too?"

"She's bi." Santana's voice was harsh and gravely. She hated the control Ray had over her. She hated how his presence caused her palms to get sweaty and her stomach to tie itself in knots and her pulse to raise.

Nerves. Not fear.

Ray smiled. "Bet she sucks dick even better than you. Maybe I'm gonna go find her. Bet she'd do it if I told her it'd be benefitting you."

Santana didn't think twice before quickly reaching towards her waistband and pulling her gun on Ray. "Don't you even _think_ about getting near Brittany," she growled. Her voice was primal. Animalistic. Filled with pure loathing. She could handle anything they were going to throw at her, but she would never tolerate any harm coming towards Brittany. Not even the threat of it.

"Brittany," Ray cooed. "Such a pretty name. Sweet. Innocent. Bet she is too. Her eyes looked sweet. Bet she'd do anything for you, right? She would do anything I asked her to."

Santana pulled down on the hammer of the gun. Her heart was pounding in her head. All she had to do was pull the trigger now. Ray laughed.

"You'd never do it you dumb bitch. You know that the moment you shoot me, these guys, they all whip out their guns and they shoot you. And then they go after your girl. They've seen her. She has no chance of running away."

Santana weighed his words in her head. He was right. Any move Santana made to hurt Ray would be simply putting Brittany in danger. Reluctantly, she put the gun down and tucked it back into her jeans.

"Smart move," Ray said, eyes shining with what Santana could only describe as pure evil. He stepped close to her and tightly wound his fingers through the hair on the back of her head, sharply angling her face up towards him. "You pull a move like that one more time, and I swear you're going to regret it chica. I may not come after you, but I definitely want me a piece of that blonde" he spat.

He let go of her and turned his back. It was Santana's cue to leave. She walked out the door and straight into her car. She silently drove for a few moments and then parked the car on the side of the road and broke down. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she was finding it difficult to breathe as violent sobs racked her body.

It was fear.

**Reviews make me smile :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**Sorry again. I feel like i appologize every time i post a new chapter. it's just that my prom is tomorrow and there has been so much going on lately that i haven't had any time. **

**But anyway, the chapter...**

**In my short 17 years, i have only attended one pride parade in my life, and so this is based on what i have experienced myself.**

**enjoy :)**

Two weeks flew by quickly. In the Berry household, Hiram and Leroy were preparing everything for their trip down to Cleveland. The plan was for them all to stay in a hotel for two nights before driving back to Lima. Leroy, being the avid party planner, had made a long list of the things they needed to bring and pack. He stood in the living room, shuffling through one of the two suitcases they were bringing, taking inventory. Hiram and Rachel walked down the stairs. The three of them all wore simple, everyday clothing. But inside their suitcases were outfits that could only ever be worn to a pride parade. The colors, the glitter, feather boas and rainbow socks. It was all far too extravagant for any other situation.

Blaine and Kurt drove to Quinn's house. They had agreed to take Quinn with them and the three of them would drive together to Rachel's. They rang Quinn's doorbell. After a short moment, they could hear the thumping of footsteps coming towards the door. A rather flustered Quinn greeted them.

"I'm having second thoughts," she said, eyes wild with panic. Kurt and Blaine walked inside and she shut the door behind them. "I mean, I want to go. I want to go for Rachel. She wants me there. And I want to go to prove to Santana that I'm not a total pussy who is afraid of coming out. And I want to go for the experience. But, its… it's such a huge step. You know?"

Kurt smiled and pulled her into a tight hug. "Quinn, you're worried now, but I promise that you'd regret it if you didn't go. You'd be mad at yourself for letting an opportunity like this pass you by."

Quinn pulled out of his embrace and smirked. "You're not wrong."

"Are you all packed and ready?" Blaine asked.

"Yeah," Quinn sighed, running a hand through her hair. "My bag is up in my room."

"I'll get it," he offered, and headed towards the stairs.

"Last door on the right," she called after him.

Santana groaned and collapsed backwards onto her bed, falling into the plush, black velvet sheets. "Is it too late to change my mind?"

Brittany stood up from where she was packing her and Santana's bags with what Brittany thought was an adequate amount of feathers, glitter, and rainbow colored clothing. "Sanny," she chided, "you said you would go. And I really want to go. And Rachel and Quinn really want you to go too. And it would make me really happy if you came."

Santana flipped over so that she was laying on her stomach, resting her chin in her hands as she watched Brittany dance around the room, filling up the bags. "I know. And I want to go. It's just… Brit. I'm going to a _pride parade_."

Brittany stopped. She walked over to Santana's bed and pulled the brunette up on her knees so that the two were at eye level. She took Santana's hands in her own and said, "No. _We_ are going to a pride parade. Together."

Santana smiled and placed a tender kiss on Brittany's lips. At that very moment, Santana's brother, Andrés, walked into the room. He instantly put a hand over his eyes. "Uhh.. Tana?" he asked.

Santana blushed and got up and walked over to him. Brittany fell back onto the bed and tried to stifle some giggles.

"You know," Andrés began, taking his hand away from his eyes, "You two should really consider shutting the door when you're going to be doing… that. I mean. I know that it's a little late to invest in soundproof walls, but…"

Santana groaned and Brittany laughed out loud. Andrés was 12. That was 6th grade. He knew how these things worked, and, after hearing Santana and Brittany on more than one occasion, he had deduced that there was something going on. He asked Santana about it once. Santana was surprised at her own words when she told her brother she was a lesbian. But, Santana and Andrés had always been really close. She was like a mother to him.

"What did you come up here to tell me?" she asked.

"Ms. Cortez is downstairs. She's here to pick me up, but wanted to talk to you a bit first, and to wish you a fun trip."

Santana smiled and looked over at Brittany. "You finish packing and meet me downstairs. We'll leave as soon as you're ready."

Rachel basically bounced up and down when she heard the doorbell ring. She quickly ran over and opened the door, exposing a rather surprised Blaine, Kurt and Quinn. Rachel ushered them all inside, smiling as always.

Hiram appeared from the kitchen and smiled at his new guests. "Hello," he greeted. "You guys all excited for our trip?"

"Oh yes," Kurt said, clasping his hands together. "I am just giddy with anticipation."

Blaine smiled at his side. "Yes, we are all so happy that you and Mr. Berry have invited us to accompany you."

"Please, call me Hiram. And he's Leroy, not Mr. Berry," Hiram laughed. "But really, it is our pleasure to bring you all with us. We have two more guests waiting, correct?"

Rachel was about to answer when the door opened and Santana walked right in, holding both her and Brittany's bags. Brittany walked in after her, holding a stuffed penguin tightly against her chest.

"Speak of the devil," Kurt mumbled. Quinn tried to hide her laugh.

Rachel cleared her throat. "Dad. This is Santana. The Santana that I told you about. And this is her girlfriend, Brittany."

Santana's stomach did a flip as she heard Rachel introduce Brittany as her girlfriend. She nervously glanced around the room as she put the bags down as if to gauge people's reactions, but everyone seemed to be smiling. Hiram walked forward and extended his hand. "It really is a pleasure to finally meet you, Santana," he said. Santana took his hand. "I have heard so much about you," he said.

Santana plastered on a smile. She had promised Brittany that she would try to be nice. "The pleasure is mine, Sir," she said. She even added a little curtsey to the end.

Leroy appeared from the living room, holding three bags in his hands and smiled. "My my," he exclaimed. "What I very well-mannered lady we have on our hands here."

That was all it took. Quinn, Kurt, Blaine and Rachel all began to laugh. Even Brittany giggled just a little bit. Santana smiled sheepishly. "Shut up," she chuckled. She turned to Brittany. "I was trying to be nice. Was that too fake?"

Kurt and Quinn answered "Yes," in unison.

"Well," Leroy said, "We should probably start heading out. We rented a large van so that we could all fit in one car. Is that okay with everyone?"

Everyone nodded their heads and excitedly hurried out the door. Leroy and Hiram took the front two seats. Blaine and Kurt took the middle two bucket seats, and Rachel, Quinn, Brittany and Santana all squeezed together into the very back row. All of their bags were safely secured to the top of the van, giving everyone a little more room.

"It's a good fucking thing we're all skinny," Santana said, "Because I do not think we would be able to fit four fat asses in this seat."

Rachel's face immediately grew serious and she glanced up, meeting Leroy's gaze in the rearview mirror as the van started pulling out of the driveway. "Santana," she whispered. "Please, could you try to keep the vulgarities to a minimum around my fathers? I understand that it is simply your vernacular, and that it may be difficult for you to exclude those choice words from your daily speech, but my fathers don't really approve of such profanities."

Santana furrowed her eyebrows. "Couldn't you have just said, 'Santana, don't curse?' It would have been way easier than throwing all those SAT words at my head."

Rachel huffed and leaned back into her seat, resting her head against Quinn's shoulder. It was going to be a long car ride.

Santana wasn't expecting the car ride to be so loud. Normally she would have been content with spending the entire time whispering to Brittany and ignoring Rachel and everyone else in the car, but these people are basically unigorable. Everyone was talking and having one giant conversation that stretched across the length of the car. The talking only stopped when certain songs came on the radio, at which point all talking with stop and everyone would start singing along as either Hiram or Leroy would turn up the volume.

Santana wasn't expecting to find herself smiling so much around these people, but their smiles and giddy spirits were contagious.

They drove up to their hotel and all piled out in a never ending line of people in a manner similar to a clown car. Everyone grabbed their respective bags, except for Santana who insisted on carrying Brittany's, and made their way up to the large suit the Berrys had rented.

The suit was extravagant. It consisted of one main living/dining/cooking area that seemed to be entirely adorned in beautiful jewel tones and plush fabrics. Sparkling chandeliers hung from the ceiling, matching the glittering drapes and luminescent appliances. From that main room stemmed four bedrooms, each with its own private bathroom. Everyone quickly claimed rooms and settled in.

It wasn't until the next morning that festivities began. The room was filled with the hustle of people getting ready in colorful, sparkling outfits while Leroy stood in the kitchen whistling and cooking everyone breakfast. The entire suite was drowning in the pleasant aroma of pancakes and coffee.

Brittany hurried out of her bedroom. The rainbow feathers on her black pleated skirt flurried as she skipped over to the window and looked out. "I see people!" she squealed. "A lot of people!"

Santana walked out of the room after her, pulling a glittery black tank top over her head, and made her way over to Brittany. "Wow," she exclaimed, looking at the sea of bodies outside. From their hotel, it was four streets over that the actual event was taking place. But, because the Berry's took a room on the 24th floor, everything could be seen outside the window. "There's got to be thousands of people out there," she breathed.

Quinn walked up behind the two girls and handed a steaming cup of coffee to Santana, knowing how the brunette basically mainlines caffeine. Quinn went for a simpler look with a pair of white shorts, a pale yellow blouse, and a wide array of colorful beads around her neck. Brittany spent half the night braiding colorful ribbons into Quinn's hair, insisting that the other blonde needed more colors or she was going to stand out by being the only one not going all out.

"You ready for this San?" Quinn asked, locking eyes with the brunette. For a moment, Quinn thought she registered something similar to anxiety taint Santana's expression. But then, a calm composure washed over her tanned face as she smirked at Quinn.

"Wouldn't the better question be, are _you_ ready, Q?"

Quinn exhaled with a shaky chuckle. "Well, that's a good question."

Santana took a sip of her coffee and lifted an eyebrow. "You know," she started, "it's not too late to back out."

Quinn glanced back behind her towards the kitchen where Rachel and Kurt were adjusting Blaine's glittery rainbow bowtie. She looked back at Santana and smiled, "yeah it is."

Santana nodded knowingly and took Brittany by the hand and they walked into the kitchen to eat breakfast.

Breakfast, however, came and went very quickly. Everyone was so anxious to get outside that food was nearly being shoveled into people's mouths. In under five minutes, plates were cleared.

"Okay," Leroy stated as Hiram washed dishes in the hotel's sink. "These here are the rules. I am not going to stand here and tell you not to talk to strangers, because that's exactly what I want you to do. However, no taking candy from strangers. No getting into white vans with questionable drivers. Never ever leave your buddy, and please. Do not be late to our little check ins. The first is in two and a half hours in front of McCarele's Pizzeria. Do we all understand ourselves?"

A group of six giddy, smiling teenagers gave dizzying head nods and add rushed out the door and headed towards the excitement located just three streets over.

Quinn and Rachel held hands as they followed the music to where the real festivities began. Both girls felt their hearts beating like a pulsating drum in their ears, but for different reasons entirely. Rachel was filled with giddy anticipation. The pride parade was an event she looked forward to every year since she was a little girl, and now she got to share this experience with her girlfriend.

Her girlfriend, however, still felt like a nervous wreck. The closer they got to the noise, the thicker were the crowds of people that they found themselves weaving through. As they made their way towards the event, Quinn's eyes were scanning the area around her, suddenly completely conscious of the small hand enclosed between her fingers. She felt as though there were eyes on her, but when she looked around, no one seemed to be paying any attention to the two teenage girls holding hands.

"Come on," Rachel grinned, giving Quinn's sweating hand a reassuring squeeze. "Let's go watch the dancers. There's this one guy, Martina, who is absolutely amazing. I only wish I could dance in heels as well as he can."

Santana and Brittany walked hand in hand down the street, smiling gleefully the entire time. Brittany loved it. She loved the colors. She loved the glitter. She loved the happy faces and the happy music and the addicting atmosphere.

Santana was scared shitless, but she loved the happy smile on Brittany's face.

"Sanny!" Brittany suddenly squealed, letting go of Santana's hand to clap her own in excitement. "They have henna tattoos! Wanna get matching tats?"

Santana chuckled and linked her arm through Brittany's. The two girls made it over to the tattoo stand and flipped through the large booklet of design ideas.

"What do you wanna get Sanny?" Brittany asked, admiring one that was an outline of two interlacing stars.

"Your choice."

Brittany flipped the page and excitedly pointed her finger, making a choice. "We need to get these, Sanny!" Brittany exclaimed.

Santana looked past Brittany's finger at her selection and started laughing. "It's perfect Britt." She called over one of the men who worked at the tattoo stand. "Can we each get a dolphin?" she asked with a grin."

Quinn slowly found her anxiety melting away, but it'd be a stretch to say that she was entirely carefree. She still had the occasional panic moment when a wave of realization washed over her that she was at a gay pride parade.

Her.

Ms. Quinn Fabray.

If only her mother could see her now.

Quinn found herself smiling as a couple of boys, maybe only a year or two older then she and Rachel, walked past them in matching glittery tutus. "Is this really happening?" Quinn mused out loud.

Rachel chuckled at Quinn's comment. "You having fun?"

"I just… I can't believe there are so many gay people in Ohio. I mean, this isn't New York. This is Ohio."

Rachel smiled and looked at Quinn. "There are gay people in every city all over the world. Even Ohio."

"I know," Quinn sighed. "But this…. This is like surreal."

Rachel smiled. As an older female couple passed by, Rachel stopped them. "Excuse me," she said, reaching into her purse to take out her camera. "Would you please take a picture of us? It's my girlfriend's first time."

The tall redhead smiled and took Rachel's camera. "Smile," she said, holding up the camera. Both girls looked her way, smiling. At the last moment, Rachel impulsively leaned in, placing a feather-light kiss on Quinn's cheek just as the camera flashed.

Brittany giggled as a man wearing rainbow tie-dyed skinny jeans handed her and Santana strings of rainbow beads. "This place is amazing," she said.

"I'm glad you're having fun," Santana chuckled, watching a group of leather-clad lesbians sit down at a table at a nearby restaurant.

"Aren't you having fun, too?" Brittany asked, eyebrows furrowed.

"Of course I'm having fun, Brit Brit," Santana said. "I'm here with you. And this place is amazing."

"But…" Brittany started, knowing very well that Santana wasn't being completely honest.

Santana sighed. "Don't you feel a little… out of place?"

"Why should we? You're gay and I'm bi. We're dating. We fit right in."

"Yeah… but, I don't know. This is all really…. You know what I'm trying to say?"

Brittany furrowed her eyebrows and turned to fully face Santana. "I think so," Brittany said honestly. "You're just scared."

"I'm not scared," Santana said defensively, holding out a hand as if to prove a point.

Brittany slowly nodded like she wasn't buying it. "Riiigghhhtt… I forgot. Tana doesn't get scared. Tana just gets nervous."

Santana rolled her eyes like a champ, but it didn't affect Brittany at all. If there was anything Brit knew about her girlfriend is that anger and bitchy comebacks are her coping mechanism for whenever she feels vulnerable.

"Want some cotton candy?" Brittany asked with a smile. "I'm sure some of your favorite snack will make you feel less… nervous."

Santana smiled. "Britt. Cotton candy is your favorite."

"I know. But it would make me smile. And you like it when I smile."

Santana couldn't help it. She giggled. "I like your train of thought. Okay. Let's go get some cotton candy."

Santana felt her phone vibrate. "Sorry Britt," she said, reading the screen. "That was the reminder I set. Looks like cotton candy is going to have to wait. We gotta go meet up with everyone in front of McCareles."

Quinn and Rachel were finishing their lemonades and talking with Rachel's dads when both Santana and Brittany and Kurt and Blaine arrived.

"Right on time," Hiram smiled.

"You having fun?" asked Leroy.

"Tons," answered Blaine.

"Yeah, Mr. Berry. Thanks so much for letting us crash with you guys," Santana said honestly. "This is quite an experience."

"Well," Hiram said. "The actual parade part of it is going to be starting soon. You guys up for marching in it with us?"

Rachel turned and looked at Quinn. "You don't have to. I don't want you to feel obligated."

Brittany turned towards Santana with silently pleading eyes.

"We'd love to," Kurt answered for him and Blaine.

In a short moment, Santana looked past Brittany's head and locked eyes with Quinn.

So many words can be said with a simple expression. Eyes show more emotion and depth than could ever be achieved through spoken word. Quinn saw the unspoken promise Santana was making with her. She would do it if Quinn would. The two of them would cross that bridge together.

"Okay," Quinn said with a shaky voice. "I'll march with you Rach." Rachel jumped and gave Quinn and tight hug.

"Same here, Britt," Santana said with a smile. "If you want to, that is."

"Of course!" Brittany sand, taking both of Santana's hands in hers. "Under one condition, of course."

Santana frowned. "Which is…?"

"You hold my hand the entire time."

"Deal," she laughed.

Within the hour, all eight of them were lined up with a huge crowd of people getting ready to walk the parade together. The music began and slowly the entire mass of bodies moved forward. Quinn watched everyone around her. Couples were on all sides of her. People dressed head to toe in rainbows. Guys wearing fairy wings on their backs. Two women holding hands with a young boy who was more likely than not their son.

There was something about being so close to these people, walking in a uniform group that made Quinn feel like she was meant to be there. There was a part of her that was feeling like she was actually a part of this group of people. This community.

She was, though. She and her girlfriend.

And her girlfriend's two fathers.

And her girlfriend's best friend and his boyfriend.

And her own two best friends to marched together in front of them, hand in hand, matching silver bracelets twinkling in the sunlight.

Santana kept a tight grip on Brittany's hand. She would never admit that she was self-conscious right now. She would never admit that there was a part of her felt naked and watched. But her eyes kept focusing off to the sides were a group of hundreds of people watched their equally as large group march through the streets.

A large pink sign off to the right caught her attention. She looked that way and focused on the words.

_"I love my lesbian daughter."_

Santana found her feet pulling her in that direction. With her girlfriend's hand in hers, they wove their way through the crowd of people. She could hear Brittany behind her asking where she was going, but Santana's eyes were fixed on the woman. She appeared to be here alone. She couldn't have been much older than Santana's mother. As she noticed Santana and Brittany approaching her, something warm lit up in her eyes.

Without much explanation at all, Santana let go of Brittany's hand and leaned in to the woman. Instantly, the woman opened her arms and enveloped Santana's thin frame into a caring embrace.

"Thank you," Santana mumbled. She pulled away and saw the woman with tears in her eyes.

"No," she said, smiling as Santana once again found comfort in Brittany's hand. "Thank you for being here. Now go have fun."

Santana smiled and she and Brittany walked back into the crowd, trying to catch up to the rest of their friends.

The eight of them didn't make it back to their hotel room until long past two in the morning. It felt like the festivities were never going to stop. Even as they turned their backs and led their aching feet in the direction of their beds, the party was still going.

The moment feet touched the plush carpeting of their room, shoes and clothes were coming off. Santana and Brittany had both stripped down to bras and underwear before they even made it through the doorway to their room. Rachel and Blaine went into their respective rooms, changed into pajamas and found themselves smiling as they fell into the warm softness of their beds. Kurt went to go try and take off some of the glitter he had all over his face and hair. Quinn stepped into the shower.

Rachel was lying with her eyes lightly shut when she heard the water of her and Quinn's in-suite shower turn off. She shut her eyes tighter when the door opened and the bright light from inside the bathroom lit up the darkened bedroom, stinging Rachel's eyes. Through the blinding light she could make out Quinn's form wrapped in a towel.

Quinn turned off the bathroom light and shuffled through her suitcase in search of pajamas. Rachel opened her eyes a little bit more and let them adjust. She smiled as she watched Quinn trying hard to be quiet as to not wake her up, not knowing that Rachel was already awake.

Quinn stood up and let her towel drop to the floor. Rachel flushed. She instantly went to close her eyes when something caught her attention. Rather than being a gentleman and turning away while her lady was indecent, she squinted her eyes to try to get a better look. Quinn's hips and thighs were marred with discolored lines.

In the darkness, Rachel could hardly tell what they were. She watched as Quinn slipped a night gown over her head and tied her hair up in a lose bun. Her arms going over her head caused the hem line of the nightgown to rise once more, exposing the inflicted skin on her thighs.

Rachel shut her eyes quickly as Quinn turned and slipped into the bed beside her 'sleeping' girlfriend.

**Reviews make me happy :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**Two more chapters. It's sad, but all good things must come to an end. I've got the last of it all planned out and basically written, so unless something comes up and i don't get around to posting, the last chapter will be published Wednesday June 13th. **

**After that, i'm thinking of new ideas for a story. I'd be more than open to any and all suggestions :) But no fluff. I want something serious. Something that i can truly dig into and really get into their charactors. If you've ever had a fanfic in the back of your mind that you really want to read about, please, do not hesitate to PM me or just post it as a review. I wanna hear what you've got to say.**

Quinn yawned and opened her eyes, reaching her arms over her head to stretch. She looked over towards her left to find that she was in the bed alone. The comforter had wrapped around her legs and the skirt of her nightgown lifted up to her hips, exposing all of her thighs. She got up, threw on a pair of sweats and a tank top and walked out towards the kitchen.

"Morning," she smiled, seeing everyone else sitting around the TV eating breakfast. "I'm still exhausted after last night. It was amazing."

"We're glad you enjoyed yourself," Leroy said, handing her a mug of tea.

She noticed Rachel sitting on the couch next to Santana. They were separated from everyone else and talking in hushed whispers. Every so often, Quinn would catch one of them glace her way and then turn back towards the conversation. It made Quinn nervous.

"Quinnie Bear," Brittany yawned, "Come sit here with me. Sanny and Rach are talking, but there's room on my couch."

Quinn talked with Brittany about everything the bubbly blonde brought up. Their conversation jumped from bears, paint, dolphins, the beach, skydiving and tampons. Quinn's mind wasn't entirely there. Her eyes would continue to jump towards the two brunettes, trying to gauge what was going on. Something put a bad feeling in Quinn's stomach.

"You know what they're talking about?" Quinn finally asked Brittany. Brittany turned her head to look. Santana noticed Brittany's attention and smiled at her, blowing her a kiss.

Brittany turned back towards Quinn. "No. When Rachel woke up and came out here, she was really upset about something. So Sanny went over to talk to her. They've been talking ever since. Did you do something to make Rachel cry? I can hear them saying your name."

Quinn frowned. "They're talking about me? I didn't do anything like that. Or at least I don't think I did."

"Rachel," Santana sighed, trying to be as supportive of the distraught girl as she could manage, "I get it if you don't understand everything right now, but Quinn doesn't need you to understand. She just needs someone to support her."

"She needs help," Rachel sniffled.

"Maybe," Santana answered truthfully, "But she would never forgive you if you went and got her into some loony bin."

"But San, I saw the scars. More than that. I saw the fresh cuts all over her thighs and her hips. I just… I couldn't believe that someone would ever be able to do that to themselves."

Santana sighed. "Rach. Have you ever done something where you wanted to… to punish yourself?"

Rachel frowned. "I don't think I understand what you're saying."

"Okay. Maybe punish is the wrong word. Have you ever done anything physical to try and get your mind off of something, or to do something that could be in some way dangerous, but you simply don't care?"

"Like, when I don't hit a note, and so I sit there are the piano and sing that same part over and over again until I get it right? Or like, running a dance routine until your feet blister just because you missed a step?"

"Something like that," Santana said. "But Quinn's reasoning isn't like yours. When you do it, you try to perfect yourself. To other people, it might not even make sense, but you take the fact that you messed something up, and you try to fix it. In Quinn's mind, everything is different. She does feel like she messed up, but it's not as simple as missing a note or a dance step. She feels like she messed up at life. She messed up at being a daughter because she thinks she's not the daughter that her parents wanted her to be. She feels like she disappointed them, and she's taking that out on herself. More than that, she isn't the person that _she_ wanted to be, and that just makes her want to change even more."

Rachel stared at Santana confused. "But why would that make her want to… self injure the way she does?"

"Be happy she is," Santana said. "Because if she feels like a failure at life, she could take the easy way out and end it all. But she's not doing that. She's hurting herself. She's making her physical appearance match the way that she feels on the inside, but at least she isn't being a coward. She's dealing with her shit. It's just that she's not doing it in a healthy way."

"I can't believe how nonchalant you're being about this whole situation," Rachel said, wiping away a stray tear.

Santana shrugged. "It's crazy and all, and I'm worried as fuck about her well being, but there's always going to be a part of me that understands what it's like to want to do something like that to yourself."

Rachel nodded, sensing that Santana wasn't in the sharing mood.

Leroy clapped his hands and addressed the group. "I sure hope everyone had their fun over this short little trip we took together, and I would be honored if we all were able to meet again one day to redo this whole thing, but it is the sad moment when I tell you all that we have about three hours until check-out, and that after that, we will be on our way to Lima. So please, all go into your rooms and pack your bags. I will see you when you're ready to leave."

Brittany quickly jumped off the couch and ran over to Santana, scooping the petite girl in her arms. They laughed wildly as Brittany's dance toned legs carried them into the bedroom and they fall onto the bed together in a tangled mess of limbs.

When the laughter subsided, Santana got up and started to pack both her and Brittany's things. The blonde lay on her stomach, resting her chin in her hands as she watched her girlfriend swiftly move around the room. "Hey Sanny," she asked delicately.

"Mhhmm?" Santana asked quickly glancing up from where she was folding Brit's skirt from the day before.

"Is Rach okay?"

Santana's hands stopped for a moment before continuing. "Yeah, Brit-Brit. Rachel is fine."

"Well, she looked really sad."

"Well," Santana started, trying to figure out how to puzzle her thoughts and words together, "You know how Quinn's been dealing with the darkness?"

Brittany nodded quickly.

"Well," Santana continued, "Rachel just found out about the darkness. But she's scared for Quinn. Quinn is her girlfriend and she loves her very much, and she's afraid of Quinn dealing with the darkness alone."

"But she's not alone," Brittany stated. "Quinnie is never alone. She's got me, and you, and Rach. We'd never let Quinnie face the darkness alone."

"I know that, and you know that, but I just wish that Quinn would see that."

"Well, if she doesn't see it, then we just need to think of a way to show her."

The tension in Rachel and Quinn's room was tangible. It made Quinn nervous. Every time she tried to start any sort of conversation with Rachel, all she would get were one word replies. But, the moment she turned away from the shorter brunette, it was like Quinn could feel eyes on her.

Finally, she snapped. Quinn stood up sharply, startling Rachel. "Rach," she sighed. "Okay, will you just tell me what's up already? Brittany said you've been acting strange since you woke up, and then you were on the couch talking with San, and now you're just acting all… wanky, and I don't know, Rach. Something is up. There is something on your mind, and I want to know what."

"Are you okay, Quinn?" Rachel asked suddenly. "I mean, not right now, because you're obviously irritated with me, so that's not what I'm referring to. I'm talking about life. Has everything been okay with you as of late? Has there been something bothering you or something that you want to talk to me about? You know you can trust me with anything, and I'm here for you with anything."

Quinn furrowed her eyebrows.

"Rachel," she asked. "Do you know something I don't? You're acting really sketchy."

"Quinn. I know that there is something eating at you. You don't need to try to hide behind any sort of façade or a mask or anything like that when you're around me. I'm your girlfriend, Quinn. If there is anyone that you can be 100% comfortable around, it should be me. If there is anyone that you can open up to about something bothering you, it is me."

Quinn shook her head and started to zip up her suitcase. "I really have no clue what you're talking about."

"I saw the scars," Rachel suddenly exclaimed. Tears sprung to her eyes as she watched Quinn's head snap up in her direction. "I saw old scars. I saw new cuts. Your thighs and hips and stomach. Quinn. I saw it all."

Both girls stood like that, eyes burrowing into the others. Deep green eyes locked into emotional hazel. Each waited for the other to continue to conversation, but neither knew what to say next. Rachel's eyes pleaded with Quinn to open up to her, to trust her, to tell her what's been going on in her head. Quinn wanted nothing more than for Rachel to forget what she saw. As far as Quinn was concerned, there were things in her life that someone like Rachel could never understand.

With nothing else to say, Quinn picked up her suitcase and headed out the door. Rachel sat down on the bed, trying to silence the sobs that took over her small frame.

Monday, Santana was running late to school. She quickly threw her hair into the classic Cheerios ponytail as she ran down the stairs, cell phone in her mouth from lack of a better place to put it. She rushed out the door and did a quick mental checklist to make sure she had everything. As she was going to open her car door, she heard a honk. When she looked up, Brittany's car was pulling up to her mailbox.

"Want a ride?" Brittany yelled with a smile.

Santana grabbed her bag and hopped into Brit's passenger seat. "What are you doing here?" she asked. "This is so out of your way. You live on the other side of town."

"I know," Brittany said, "but I was thinking-"

"I thought I smelt something burning," Santana interrupted with a smirk.

"Shut up," Brittany chuckled, playfully slapping Santana on the arm as she maneuvered through the roads that appeared to still be asleep from the night before. "Anyway, I was thinking about Quinn and the darkness, and I thought of something."

"Britt," Santana questioned slowly, making sure the blonde understood. "You know that Quinn's darkness isn't the real darkness. It's not something you can fix with a flashlight. Quinn cuts herself." There was no delicate way for Santana to put it.

"I know," Brittany said, frowning, but not lifting her gaze to meet Santana's eyes. "I overheard you and Rachel talking that one morning after the parade. So when I got home, I started looking some things up online."

"And?" Santana questioned, seeing that Brittany had actually put in effort in this.

"I think I found a way that will show Quinn that she's not alone. Something that will tell her that she doesn't need to fight the darkness without us."

Brittany explained her plan to Santana. Santana knew Brittany was smart. Most of the time, she says some pretty unintelligent things, but every once in a while, something would click in her head. Every so often, she would get so caught up in a concept that she would think about it for hours and hours, and she would come up with a good idea.

Luckily for Santana, this was one of those moments.

"That's brilliant, Brit," Santana said, unbuckling her seatbelt as Brittany pulled into the school parking lot.

"Wanna do it today?" Brittany asked, excitement glowing in her eyes.

"Sure. I'll explain everything to Berry. I see her second period."

They were just shutting the car door as the sound of the warning bell ran through the air around them. "Come on," Brittany giggled, taking Santana by the hand before breaking into a run, pulling the other girl behind her. "You're late to first period way too often."

Santana rolled her eyes as the other girl chided her, but couldn't hide the smile on her face. "Never was a morning person," she retorted, letting herself get pulled through the school doors.

"I know," Brittany said, pressing a soft kiss to Santana's hand before letting go. "But I love you anyway."

Santana couldn't help her glancing around the hallway to see if anyone noticed, but the hallway was empty apart from a small handful of people who were too busy hurrying off to class to notice.

Brittany grabbed Santana by the shoulders and spun her in the direction of her first period class. She gave her a pat on the butt and skipped in the opposite direction and sang, "Don't be late."

Quinn walked out of her sixth period class and was instantly swallowed up in the vibrating ocean of bodies in the school hallway. She hadn't spoken to Rachel yet today, which was slightly unnerving. She would find the brunette's eyes in a crowd, and the two of them would lock gazes, but neither spoke a word to each other.

What was there to say? Quinn felt ashamed. Rachel had seen her biggest weakness. Her biggest flaw. She felt exposed. She felt like everyone could see right through the long sleeved cardigan and mid-calf skirt that she was wearing and were all counting the scars. Counting the cuts. Staring at her like she was a freak. Like she was broken. Like she felt completely and utterly alone.

She wasn't paying attention to where she was going and bumped into someone.

"I'm so sorry," she quickly said, turning to look at them. She was surprised to see a smiling Brittany. Brittany was always smiling. It was something Quinn admired about her. It was something Quinn envied about her. Brittany's mood couldn't be broken. Brittany saw the world through rose-tinted glasses that made everything in her life just a little bit better.

Or maybe Quinn was wearing dark shades that simply made her life bitter and cold.

"You should watch your step, Quinnie," Brittany said with a dead serious expression. "This time you walked into me. But you never know. Next time you might trip over a garden gnome. They are notoriously grumpy. Like Sanny."

Quinn smiled at Brittany's adorable quirkiness, but she sensed something off about the taller blonde. Quinn studied her face for a moment and tried to find what it was. It clicked. It was her eyes. Normally, Britt's eyes glowed with that same glee that was in her smile. But this time, though her lips were turned upward in a joyous expression, the joy didn't reach all the way up to her eyes. There was something bothering her.

"Hey Qunnie, can I see your hand?" Britt asked, reaching into her backpack.

Quinn skeptically held her hand out. Brittany uncapped a purple marker and drew a butterfly on the milky whiteness of Quinn's inner wrist.

"What are you doing?" Quinn asked quizzically, watching as Brittany's artistic hands added beautiful details to the butterflies wings.

"Coloring," Brittany mused, marker cap in her teeth, intently working on her drawing.

"I can see that," Quinn chuckled, "But wouldn't you prefer a notepad to my skin?"

Brittany took the cap from her lips and placed it back on the marker. "Nope," she exclaimed, popping the 'P' sound. "It looks better on you. Now don't wash it off," she said before leaning in to kiss Quinn's cheek and skipping around the corner.

Santana skipped out of her seventh period class early and walked through the empty hall to Mr. Dunham's French class. The bell rang and a swarm of bodies surrounded her. Santana's eyes scanned for a familiar head of blonde. As soon as she spotted Quinn, she strutted over to her and linked their arms.

"Hey," Santana smirked, loving how the sea of bodies seemed to part before them as they walked.

"Hey?" Quinn asked with a frown. "Isn't your class like, on the opposite side of the building? On the second floor? How did you get here so fast? Were you like, waiting for me?"

"Not important," Santana said as she pulled Quinn off to the side against some unoccupied lockers. She looked down at the smooth skin of Quinn's hand and smiled at the sight of Brittany's creative butterfly. "Good," she said, taking Quinn's hand in hers. "You didn't wash it off."

"Yeah," Quinn said, watching as Santana reached her hand into her bag and pulled out a red marker. "Hey," Quinn protested, but she didn't pull away as Santana uncapped the marker and drew another butterfly, this time on the back of Quinn's hand, right behind her thumb. "What's with all the butterflies?" she asked.

"Damn," Santana hissed, capping her marker and criticizing her artwork. "Mine isn't half as good as Britt's, but it's gonna have to do. Just don't wash it off, kay bitch?"

Santana turned around and was about to leave, but at the last minute turned back to Quinn and enveloped the surprised blonde in a tight hug. The crowd in the hall began to shrink as student scurried off to class. Santana pulled away and gave Quinn a final, small smile before running off to her next class before she was too tardy.

Rachel tried to calm her fluttering heart as she approached Quinn before Glee club. Rachel never felt stage freight, but she couldn't be more nervous as the blonde noticed the sound of her footsteps and turned to face her.

"Hey," Rachel said weakly.

"Hey."

"Uh, can I see your hand?" Rachel asked, trying to put on a smile. After Brittany and Santana, Quinn just gave in and picked up her hand for Rachel with only a shrug on nonchalance. She had no clue what was going on with these girls, but she had a pretty good idea that Rachel was going to draw a butterfly on her.

She watched as Rachel reached into her bag and pulled out an orange marker and drew two butterflies on her forearm, joining the previous two winged creatures.

"So," Quinn sighed. "It's the end of the day. You finally gonna tell me what's up with this?"

"Not yet," Rachel said. She leaned in and gave Quinn a quick hug before Mr. Shue came in the room, and then headed back to her seat.

"Okay guys," Will said, clapping his hands together.

Santana calmed her own nerves. She stood up and cleared her throat. "Mr. Shue? I have something to say."

Will was surprised, but motioned to the front of the room. "The floor is yours."

Santana nodded and made her way down to near the piano where she could address the rest of the group.

She took a deep breath and looked into the eyes of every single person in that room before starting. "I know I have a bit of a reputation," she said. "I know that I have done a lot of really stupid things, and I know that there have been a lot of rumors that I did things that are even stupider. I know that there are people in this room who may or may not believe these rumors, and people who was certain pre-existing ideas about the type of person that I am. Basically, I know that there are people in this room who think I'm a slut."

She couldn't help but notice how Quinn gave her a small smirk. Rachel's eyes widened at the blunt remark. Puck grinned sheepishly. Mr. Shue looked slightly uncomfortable at the direction that this conversation was going. Santana swallowed her anxiety and kept going.

"And, normally, I don't hide things. If I think something, I say it. But, there is something about me that I have been hiding. For quite some time actually, and I want to share it with you guys. Not just because I think it's time to be honest, but because of a special person. You see, I'm sorta in love with someone. And, even though they absolutely love me too, our relationship can't truly be a relationship until I admit to the world that I am a lesbian, and that I'm in love with Brittany."

Santana walked towards the group of smiling teens and right up to Brittany, who was sitting in the front row of chairs with a proud smile on her face and a warm tear on her cheek. Santana took Brittany by the hand and pulled her onto her feet.

"Brittany Susan Peirce," she said, locking her chocolate eyes on with Brit's dancing blue, "I love you. Always and forever after. And I want to be with you for eternity. I can't promise that this whole idea of coming out is going to be easy for me, but I do promise that I'm willing to deal with it if it means that I can have you."

Without a word, Brittany leaned in to give her girlfriend a kiss as the room erupted in a roar of cheers and clapping, and obscene cat-calls from Puck. After a minute, Mr. Sheuster stood up.

"Alright girls," he said. The girls pulled apart and looked at him, smiling. "Santana, we are all very happy and supportive of your coming out to us, and we are glad that you felt comfortable sharing that part of yourself with us. And I'm sure that I speak for all of us when I say that I'm happy for the two of you. And now, if you ladies will take your seats, we've got regionals to talk about."

The rest of Glee seemed to pass with a blur. Quinn barely spoke at all. Barely moved. Her mind was on the butterflies. Every so often she would turn her wrist, looking at the four butterflies dancing along her skin. It wasn't until Mr. Shue dismissed them all that she actually looked around the room at the other people. She picked up her bag and was starting to walk towards the door when Brittany pulled on her arm.

"What's up Brit?" she asked, watching as everyone else walked out of the room. Brittany didn't say anything until they were the last two left. She reached into her backpack and pulled out an envelope. It was light green with three bright orange butterflies on it.

"Read this, Quinn," she said, and walked out of the room leaving Quinn alone.

Quinn opened the envelope and instantly recognized Santana's sharp handwriting.

_Quinn,_

_Look down at the butterflies on your wrist. These are the rules._

_1. __These butterflies are there for you. They are the symbol of your self-injury. When you feel the need to cut, you draw a butterfly instead of cutting.__2. __You cannot scrub off these butterflies. You need to let them fade away on their own. Don't worry. We all used Sharpie's, so it's not going to be too easy for you.__3. __If you do cut while you have a butterfly on you, you killed it. That's when you have to wash off the butterfly. The purpose is to let these butterflies stay alive. So don't you dare kill one.__4. __Other people can draw these butterflies on you. Those butterflies are extra special, because they're drawn by people who care._

_Quinn, you're not alone. You'll never be alone. Even when you feel like there is no one in the world who loves you, Rachel loves you. Even when you feel like there's no one you can call at two in the morning just to talk, remember that Brittany will always pick up her phone. Even when you feel like there's no one who understands why you do the things you do, remember that I understand completely._

_-Tana_

Quinn didn't even really realize when she started crying. She didn't feel the tears fall from her cheeks, but she did see the small wet spots on the paper being held in her shaking hands. She found herself feeling weak at the knees and decided to sit on the floor. Her skirt spread out around her. She brought her hands to her eyes and sobbed for what felt like forever.

And then, she felt herself being enveloped with warmth on all sides. She felt arms wrapping themselves around her. It was hard to tell how many arms, but Quinn was sure that it was more than one person. Quinn looked up and found Brittany, Santana and Rachel all sitting near her on the floor, touching her in some way. Brittany sat down behind her and let Quinn rest her back against her as Brit wrapped her arms around Quinn's shaking body. Santana lifted Quinn's legs and placed them up in her lap, slowly running her hands up and down her calves in soothing circles. Rachel took Quinn's hand in both of her own and held it there tightly, silently promising that she'll never let go.

**So, there's that chapter. I know that this isn't how Santana came out to the glee club, but it just makes more sense to me this way. brittany wanted her to feel comfortable enough to come out, not to be outed and just handle it well.**

**Reviews make me smile :)**


	14. Chapter 14

_I'll be honest. I had forgotten about this story and was content with just letting it go the way it did and not following up on it. But, I had noticed that there were still people reading it and commenting on it and sending me PMs telling me how much they liked it. And, people were asking me questions. So, i noticed that i had some unfinished questions to answer._

_And so, for you, the final chapter of Together_

Two Months Later

Quinn walked through the hallways with her head high up, smile plastered on. She would occasionally look down at her wrists and smile at the tiny butterfly she had tattooed on each wrist, right underneath the bone in her thumb.

It was a struggling battle. She knew that. She would be a liar if she said that the day Brittany, Santana and Rachel drew on her was the last day she's cut. She'll be the first to admit that she's faltered a few times since then, and that nights haven't always been without mess, but she's happy. And so, even though she hasn't quite been able to live through all the promises of the Butterfly Project, she took her girlfriend and her two best friends with her on her 18th birthday to a tattoo parlor to watch as she got two beautiful matching butterflies.

Within the wings of the one on her left hand were a script S and B, for the two best friends who stuck with her for everything.

Within the butterfly on her right was Rachel's name.

Had you asked Quinn before, she would have told you that she would never get someone else's name tattooed on her body besides her own children. Sometimes people get divorced, break up, or simply stop being friends after a falling out, and she doesn't want their name as a permanent reminder of that on her body.

But with this, Quinn felt different. Even if some day she and Rachel broke up, this tattoo wasn't a symbol of their relationship. It stood as a symbol of a person who _saved_ Quinn. She and Rachel could break up one day and never speak to each other again, but that's not going to change the way that Rachel influenced her, and _that_ is what Quinn wanted as a reminder with her tat.

"Quinn!" Brittany yelled down the hall. Quinn turned to look at the waving blonde and her girlfriend, standing at their locker hand in hand. Quinn smiled and started walking towards them.

Santana looked down at the milky white skin of Brittany's hand gloved within her own tanned grasp and smiled. She never quite came out in school with a whole "I'm Gay" statement. She simply started walking around the hallways hand in hand with Brit. They would kiss each other goodbye in public. Refer to each other as their girlfriend. That was really as far as their coming out process went.

"Hey guys," Quinn said, leaning against the locker next to Santana's as the brunette piled textbooks into her backpack. "What's up?"

"Sanny wanted to talk to you," Brittany stated, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. She took her hand out of Santana's and adjusted her ponytail. Coach Sylvester wanted to talk to me about something. I gotta go." She kissed Santana on the cheek. "See you at practice."

She started skipping down the hall and was already twenty feet away before she turned around and called out, "See you later Quinnie Bear!"

Quinn chuckled and rolled her eyes. "She really is adorable. You know that, right?"

Santana smiled and glanced at Brittany's disappearing figure as she turned a corner. She looked over at Quinn. "Yeah. I know."

She closed her locker and looked at Quinn, but didn't say anything.

"So… what did you want to talk to me about?" Quinn asked, trying to start this conversation. She didn't want to seem like a complete bitch, but she had a date planned with Rachel that was due to start in a half hour and she really didn't want to be late.

Santana sighed. "This isn't easy for me to say, so I want you to listen. I need some money. Normally, I would do everything in my power to get as much money as I can by myself and not have to stoop to the level of needing to ask someone, but I'm starting to get desperate. I saved a crapload of money over the past few months, but I'm still a bit short. And, quite frankly, you're loaded. And I know that I'm asking quite a bit of you by asking you for money, but I do consider you to be a close friend of mine, if not my best friend, so I figured that if I was going to need to ask anyone for help, it would be a friend."

Quinn smiled reassuringly and placed a hand on Santana's arm. "San," she said, "anything I have that you need is as good as yours. After all you've ever done for me, I will do everything in my power to help you. How much do you need?"

Santana sniffled and looked down at the tip of her sneaker. "Three hundred dollars," she said. She glanced back up at Quinn with tear filled eyes. "But I promise. As soon as I get the money, I will pay back every penny. This isn't a gift. It's a loan."

Quinn reached into her wallet and pulled out a handful of twenties, counting it quickly. She was reaching over to hand it to Santana before snapping her hand back. "This isn't going to be used for drugs, is it?"

Santana shook her head and laughed uneasily. "Kinda the opposite, actually. I…. I want to pay some people back once and for all. It was about drugs, once, a long time ago. And, I didn't have the money, so they said I could pay them back when I did. Well, it turns out that I never did. And they held that over me. They made me… do things to try and even out my balance with them, but it was like nothing I did ever seemed to clear that balance. So I want to clear my name and end my debt to them. They won't have anything else to hold over me."

Quinn nodded and handed the money over to Santana. "It's no rush to pay me back. The money is not an issue. I just want you safe."

Santana tucked the wad of twenties into her bra and reached out to envelop Quinn in a tight embrace. "Thank you so much, Quinn," she said, desperately trying to hide her uncharacteristic tears.

After her next class, Brittany skipped down the hallway in search of a familiar head of brown hair, pulled tightly into a neat ponytail. She hummed softly and smiled as people turned to look at her and seemed to clear a path for her. She made eye contact with as many people as she could, trying to spread the happy.

She finally spotted Santana at the vending machine and tiptoed over as quietly as she could, reaching her hands out and grabbing the Latina at the waist. Brittany giggled as Santana basically jumped out of her skin. It wasn't that Santana was easily afraid, it's just that she's always been a bit of a spaz when someone poked at her waist.

"Brittany!" she laughed loudly, knowing exactly who it was even before she turned around. There weren't many people in the school who would have the balls to grab onto her like that. "Is that really fucking necessary?"

"As necessary as your potty mouth," Brittany chided gently. Santana rolled her eyes, but her lips formed a delicate smile.

"So what's up?" she asked, watching the infectious blonde shift her weight from foot to foot adorably.

Brittany dug into the side pocket of her backpack and pulled out two thin pieces of paper and handed one to Santana. Santana read the paper and looked back at Brittany quizzically. "Dance tickets?"

"Yeah. As Senior Class President, I thought we could have a winter dance. Not a Christmas dance, because Figgins thought that wasn't politically correct, so it'd be a winter dance with a winter wonderland theme and snowflakes and penguins."

Santana smiled. "So, you bought me a ticket?"

"Actually," Brittany said slowly, stretching every syllable of the word out like taffy, "I was hoping you and I could go together."

"Of course Brit. We always go to school things like this together."

"I mean as my date. As my girlfriend."

Santana furrowed her eyebrows. "Like, slow dancing and all that stuff?"

Brittany nodded slowly. "If you want, that is. I mean, I don't want to force you or anything. I just thought it would be nice if we could go together. I mean, you came out to the Glee Club… and that was a while ago. So, I thought that maybe if you were okay enough to come out to them like that, that maybe now you'd be ready to be more public with our relationship."

"Brit," Santana sighed, pushing and invisible strand of hair behind her ear, knowing very well they were all hair sprayed back against her head. "It's such a huge jump."

"You said that about coming out to the Glee club," Brittany defended, "but you did that. And you said that about the pride parade, but you went with me. You said that you would go if I held your hand, and I did. And I promise, I'll hold your hand through this entire dance, and none of the ugly stuff that some stupid people are gonna say is going to matter. You're Santana fucking Lopez. No one has said anything about us holding hands and kissing in the hallway yet, so they're probably not gonna say anything at the dance. And if they do, I'll beat them up for you."

Santana chuckled at the mental image of Brittany defending her honor like that. "This really mean that much to you?" she sighed, staring deeply into dancing blue eyes.

"Yeah, Sanny," Brittany whispered, "It really does. I love you."

Santana closed her eyes and nodded. "Okay," she said. "Are we coordinating our dresses?"

It took Brittany a moment to realize what Santana had said, but the moment she realized that the Latina had agreed, Brittany squealed with excitement and jumped towards Santana, enveloping the smaller girl in a bone-crushing hug. They were laughing so loudly that more than a few pairs of eyes turned in their direction and watched as Brittany repeatedly kissed Santana's cheek.

Rachel and Kurt drove straight to the dress store after school. After much debate, she and Quinn had agreed that Quinn would wear a pale blue dress with a baby blue sash around the waist and Rachel would wear the blue dress with the pink sash. Rachel knew that Quinn would look amazing in anything she picked, but decided that for her own fashion choice, Kurt was the best option for a shopping buddy.

"What do you think of this one?" she asked, stepping out of the dressing room. Kurt eyed the flattering embellished bust with the empire waist, flowing out into an elegant A-line skirt.

"It fits better than the last one," Kurt admitted, taking a sip of sparkling apple cider from a champagne flask. "However, I do think there may be something better. Put that one on stand-by and go try on the next."

Rachel sighed and rolled her eyes as she stepped into the fitting room ready to try on dress number eight. It wasn't until she slipped on curve-hugging dress number 13 that Kurt stood up and smiled and said, "That's the one."

Rachel could not be more thankful that the experience was over.

"And who said 13 was unlucky?" she joked as she tucked the receipt into her purse and the two of them headed back out to her car.

"Quinn is going to bug out when she sees you in that. You look incredibly hot in that dress," he said, putting on his seatbelt while the car started moving.

Rachel smiled. "Thanks. But if anyone is going to be stunned by the other's appearance it will be me stunned by hers. She looks incredible in anything she wears, even if it's just a simple skirt and sweater. Seeing her in a dress is like, wow. And it's our first school dance as a couple."

Kurt smiled proudly and turned to her. "You excited?"

Rachel quickly shifted glowing eyes towards him and back. "Does it show?"

Kurt chuckled. Only a short moment passed between the two of them before Kurt heard a song on the radio, turned up the volume and the two of them sang, filling the car with joyful voices.

Three weeks to the dance flew by quickly. The hallways in school started filling up with paper snowflakes and posters of various arctic animals curtsey of President Brittany. The night of the dance, she showed up an hour early just to make sure that everything was completely perfect.

She stepped into the gym, glittering silver heels echoing against the hardwood floors. The room felt like she had walked into Narnia. The floor was coated in a thin layer of silver and white glitter and white crepe paper streamers hung from the ceilings like elegant curtains with strings of blinking white lights being among the only illumination in the room apart from the disco ball that cast beautiful shadows around the room.

Brittany watched in awe.

She heard a set of swift footsteps behind her and almost instantly knew who the owner of the heels was.

"Doesn't it look amazing, Sanny?" she asked, not turning around to even check who it was.

"Not as amazing as you look."

Brittany felt a pair of arms circle around her and melted into the warmth of Santana's embrace. "Are you ready for this dance?" She felt the warmth of Santana's breath against her bare neck, tickling the short hairs.

"Probably not," she answered honestly, gracefully twirling her girlfriend around so that they were face to face. "But, I'm gonna deal with it anyway. Do you know why?"

Brittany smiled. "Because I'm adorable and you love me?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "My point exactly."

Rachel drove up to Quinn's house and got out, holding up the front of her dress as she walked up the long walkway to the front door. She rang the bell and heard it chime like a song through the house. The familiar sound of heels approached the door before it swung open, revealing Rachel's beautiful blonde.

She was at a loss for words. Her eyes scanned Quinn's body, mouth agape and trying to formulate thoughts.

Quinn chuckled. "You look pretty hot, too." Rachel blushed. Quinn walked over to the closet and grabbed her purse and put on a coat and walked out the door with her girlfriend. As they walked down the lawn, their hands touched and Quinn took the opportunity to envelope Rachel's hand in her own.

"I love you," she said, rubbing the back of her hand with her thumb. "You know that, right?"

"Of course," Rachel said, opening Quinn's door. She walked over to her side of the car and got in, starting the car. "Why would you even ask it?"

Quinn sighed. "Because I'm scared shitless about this dance. I just… I wanted you to know that I love you. I don't know. I thought it was important to let you know."

Rachel reached over and put her hand on Quinn's. They drove like that for the rest of the trip.

The dance was a success. People were having fun. Brittany's Winter Wonderland was coming to life. Halfway through the party, she turned on the snow machine and people applauded as a light snowfall danced around them. She and Santana had spent a wonderful night together, as girlfriends, in public. No one was saying anything to them, and Santana's nerves were calming down.

Santana looked over towards the tables at the far end of the gym and saw Quinn sitting at one of the tables alone. Quinn looked up as the Latina sat down opposite of her.

"I know I already said this," Santana started, "but I just wanted to say it again, because I'm probably never going to thank you again for anything in your life. But, thank you for giving me that money."

Quinn smiled. "So, you're debt free?"

"I am," Santana said with a nod. "On the way here, I stopped at that guy's place and handed him the money, told him I didn't owe him anything anymore, and that he better leave me and my family alone."

"I'm happy for you, Santana. I really am. And I know that you told me that you'll pay me back, but you really don't have to. After everything you've done for me, it's the least I could do for you. You help me I help you, right?"

Santana frowned. "Quinn, I can't do that. I mean, its three hundred dollars. That's a lot of money."

Quinn chuckled. "Yeah? And you very well may have saved my life. There isn't enough money in the world for me to ever be able to repay you."

Santana nodded and paused for a moment. "Are you sure?" she asked quietly.

Quinn just smiled at her and nodded as Rachel came up to the table and placed a cup of fruit punch in front of Quinn.

"Hey San," Rachel said. "This dance is amazing. Brittany did such a good job with everything."

"I know. She's so proud of it."

Rachel ran a hand through her hair. "I uh… I was actually looking for you earlier, Santana. Can I steal you for a moment?"

Santana looked over at Quinn and smiled as a final thank you before getting up and following Rachel to the girls' bathroom.

"What's up Rach?" she asked, checking her make up in the mirror.

"When you originally approached me that day in the auditorium, we made a deal that you would help me get Quinn if I would help you get Brittany. You have more than kept your side of that bargain, since Quinn and I are in a happily committed relationship all thanks to you. You were the one to throw the party that caused us to start talking, and you were the one to set us up on that blind date that led to us revealing our feelings to each other. You were like the matchmaker from heaven. However, I've noticed that I didn't keep my end of the bargain."

Santana furrowed her eyebrows. "Whadya mean?"

"I didn't help you get Brittany. I didn't do anything. You did that all on your own. It's like I made you do twice the work. You fixed my love life and yours."

Santana sighed. "Listen Rach. You did your part."

"But how? I didn't do anything productive."

"Yeah you did. The reason Brits and I weren't working things out was because I was too big of a pussy to go public with her. So, when you got Quinn to go public with you, I had to do the same with Brits. I mean, if Quinn could do it, no way I was gonna sit back and watch you two live the relationship I've always wanted. I grew a pair because, in a way, you sorta gave me that push that I needed. While you needed me to give you the opportunity, you gave me the motivation."

Rachel laughed. "So, I did help?"

"Yeah, short-stack. You did. And I gotta say thanks."

Rachel smiled. "You know, we make a pretty good team."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Yeah. When you're not so damn annoying."

Rachel opened her mouth to retort when Brittany bounced into the bathroom. "Sanny!" squealed. "Come dance with me. They're playing the last song."

Santana laughed as Brittany grabbed her by the hand and pulled her to the dance floor. Slow music flew through the air around them as people paired up and began to dance. Brittany locked her hands behind Santana's neck as the shorter girl's arms snaked around Brit's slim figure and they rocked to the music.

Rachel looked around until she spotted a lonely head of gold sitting at a table. Rachel approached and extended a hand. "May I have this dance?"

Quinn smiled and took Rachel's hand. Bodied connected, they danced to the music, swaying to the rhythm. Rachel looked over and saw Santana and Brittany dancing, smiling and giggling at words only the two could hear. Rachel knew that she would be forever grateful to have found a friend in Santana. She gave her the relationship that she could have otherwise only dreamt of.

Santana looked over at Rachel and the two locked eyes for a moment. Unspoken words passed between them. Santana winked and turned back towards her girlfriend, and the two couples danced in an ocean of bodies in the forever-falling snow.

_Reviews make me happy :)_

_Thank you so much to all who liked this story. It really means a lot to me to have you read my work and tell me what you think. I'm glad i was able to write something that so many people liked. I'd be more than willing to take suggestions for other story ideas._

_Yours Truly,_

_Alwaysandforeverafter 3_


End file.
